A Perfect Match
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Written for Granger Enchanted Marriage Law Challenge 2010 - Hermione Granger came up with a potion to decide a person's perfect magical match. Still, she never thought someone would use it on her. Or did they? Perhaps fate decided her match in the end.
1. Chapter 1

All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or pubishing of this story.

_****This story was written for Granger Enchanted's Marriage Law Challenge - 2010**_

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**A Perfect Match**

**By**

**AnneM**

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**Chapter 1 – Present Time, Two Months after Chapter Two, if That makes Sense, Two Men Talking**

"I can't bloody well believe this!"

"I know. It's hard to believe. I just had to tell someone. That's why I asked you to come."

"This was the reason everyone had to have that blasted blood testing done?" the first man shouted.

His friend nodded and said, "Yes, that was the first part of it."

"But this is ludicrous," the first man said. "I always thought the Minister was a bit daft, but surely he knows the Wizengamot is never going to allow this! They're bound to challenge it, as will every pureblood family out there!"

The second man laughed and said, "It's already a foregone conclusion, my friend. Not only has the Minister received the full backing of the high court, but the law has already been enacted, and the letters with the edict are going out tomorrow."

The first man staggered a bit and fell down on a chair in his friend's office. "Letters? What letters?"

His friend handed him a piece of heavy, vellum, cardstock parchment and said, "Here, read for yourself. You'll get your own soon enough, though."

The second man took the letter with shaking hands and read aloud:

* * *

**Edict Mar****ī****tus**

_By Order of the Minister for Magic_

_The following law now applies to all magical beings living in the combined colony of the British Isles._

_The Reunification and Mar__ī__t__ā__re Law was passed this morning by a majority vote of the Wizengamot Government. _

_As of this date March 1st- 2005 all Muggleborn and Halfblood magical beings will be compliant to the newest law. Failure to do so will result in the binding of their magic and stiff monetary penalties. _

_By reading this edict- you submit to our law and agree to its terms. _

_Minister of Magic- Kingsley Shacklebolt._

* * *

He handed the parchment back to his friend and asked, "So tell me in simple terms, please, what does this mean?"

"Well," his friend began, "you're aware that since the end of the second war, there have been more and more squib births, due, undoubtedly, to all the inbred marriages of purebloods over the years. If England wants to keep their magical society strong, and compete with the rest of the world, they needed to do something drastic. All unmarried purebloods, half bloods and Muggle-borns, between the ages of 18 and 60 will get a copy of this edict tomorrow. The next day they will get another letter, stating that a choice has been made for them by the Ministry using an advance blood test that has found their perfect mate, and that mate will be named in that second letter. Then the third…"

He was interrupted when his friend said, "Oh my stars…Granger's blood test. The one she worked so hard on was used for this?"

"Yes, and she will be livid," his friend said, shaking his head. "I feel like I betrayed her, because I knew all along that her test would be used for this, but I couldn't tell a soul. Her blood test was brilliant, actually. Something akin to a Muggle blood test, crossed with a Muggle matchmaking personality test, all wrapped up with one little spell and one little potion. The person has their blood taken, it's put in a vial, matched with another's and poof, the stability of our world is once again at hand!"

"After the blood tests were conducted, a choice was made for each witch and wizard and that person will be named in the second letter, and another letter, the third, will go out and tell them what will happen to them if they refuse to comply with the law. They thought it best to send this in a separate letter, so not to taint the one with their future mate's name on it."

"What if they refuse to marry this person?" his friend asked. He picked up the piece of parchment with the edict and added, "Someone like Granger is already engaged! If Weasley isn't her blood match, will she be able to refuse?"

His friend slowly shook his head no. "No, not really. They'll be stiff penalties, restrictions, and use of their magic will be prohibited. They might as well go live as a Muggle. I can't see anyone refusing. After the third letter, a fourth will go out with congratulations to them, of all things, and setting up timelines for the marriage, etc. After two years of marriage, if they produce no offspring, they can petition for an annulment and the marriage will be null and void, but then they have to submit to another blood test, for a total of three tests in all."

Reading the edict quietly again, his friend said, "So in theory, someone could drag this out for six years?"

"But who would do that?"

"If they did, what would occur at the end of the six years?" His friend stood and went over to look out the window. He muttered, "Damn snow," even though they were underground and the windows were spelled to make it appear it was snowing, by magic.

"Six years later, I guess they wouldn't be married, but that's about all they would have, their freedom. They would have all the same penalties and restrictions leveled against them that they would have had if they refused outright in the beginning. No one will refuse. The law is airtight and due to be enacted in less than 24 hours."

"And who cares about the firestorm of backlash, right?" his friend shouted. "Fuck! I just thought of something. I had the blood test done! Who was picked for me?"

His friend looked uneasy and said, "I can't reveal that, you know that, besides, all the results are sealed. The letters are going out tomorrow by Owl and Floo, and then the second letters with the names are going out the day after, and they're being heavily guarded in the Department of Law Enforcement. There are at least two Aurors guarding them at all times!"

"But surely you know!"

"No, I don't! I don't even know who was picked for me, and frankly, I don't want to know. It makes me a bit sick."

"Well, I'll find out somehow!" His friend stormed through his office.

"Wait, how are you going to find out, and even if you do, what good will it do? You can't change this! It's happening!"

"If you didn't want me to do something, you shouldn't have told me about this, Adrian," his friend growled. "You know me well enough by now to know that I can't sit idly by and allow this to happen and not do something about it. What if I get stuck with someone awful?"

"Oh yes, it's all about you," Adrian mumbled. "Go; try to sneak past a horde of Aurors, through the largest department in the Ministry. You're not even a department head in your department! You don't have the credentials to get past the threshold!"

"You're a department head! This was your baby, your experiment; you were in charge of it! Tell them you have to check on something and come with me! Please!" His friend dragged him by the shoulders and then pushed him through the doors.

Adrian asked, "Gee, do I have a choice?"

"NO!"

"Fine, but only because I'd like to know who I get paired up with as well, but just so you know - this might not work. They might not let us in," Adrian remarked.

The man looked at his oldest and dearest friend and said, "If they don't let us in, then I'll think of something else."

To one man's surprise and the other man's chagrin, they had no problems entering the large department where thousands of envelopes were kept in boxes in a large holding room. Nevertheless, that was only one hurdle. Adrian explained to the Aurors outside the door of the holding area that he merely had some last minute alterations to make to the letters they were guarding. Since both Aurors were aware that Adrian was the one that helped deliver the letters to their department the day before, they didn't question him.

They did, however, stop his friend. "We can let you in, Mr. Pucey, but only you, not your friend."

"He's my guard," Adrian said nonchalantly.

"Your guard? Since when does the head of Potions and Spells need a guard? And doesn't he work for the…" the first man stopped talking when he spied Harry Potter walking down the corridor. The young Auror was in no way their boss, but he was much respected by all the members in the Magical Law Department.

"Mr. Potter," the first guard said in greeting. The second guard merely nodded.

Harry said hello and then to Adrian he asked, "What are you doing here, Pucey? Is something wrong?"

Harry was one of the few people, besides Adrian, the Minister of Magic, and the members of the high court, who were aware of the contents of the letters in the room before them.

"Nothing's wrong, Potter. I guess I'm just feeling a bit nervous about it all, and I want to check everything one last time," Adrian said. Harry thought he looked nervous enough, so he nodded.

"Fine, you can go in, but he can't, you know that, right?" Harry asked, regarding Adrian's friend.

"He's his guard," the second young Auror told Harry.

Harry snorted and said, "Yeah, right. Only you, Pucey, you know that." Harry walked away from the men. Adrian smiled a sad smile toward his friend, apologetically, and then he got a dastardly thought.

"Gentlemen," Adrian said to the Aurors, "I'll return, alone, in a moment, right?" He took his friend by the arm and pulled him out of sight of the Aurors, around the corner.

He slipped off his lab jacket, took his friend's coat right off his back, and threw his jacket toward the other man. "Right, go in there quickly. The letters are in alphabetical order. Take a quick look, but don't mess anything up. Look only for yourself. I'll let mine be a surprise after all."

He tried to put his white jacket on his friend, who swatted his hands away. "Adrian, you dolt. I think those young Aurors will know I'm not you."

Adrian made a disgusted noise, mostly at himself, and reached in his trouser pocket. "What kind of Potion's Master would I be if I didn't carry polyjuice potion?"

"I need polyjuice that will make me look like you!" his friend hissed.

"Yes, this is polyjuice potion that will make you look like me, idiot," Adrian said with a roll of his eyes.

"Why?" his friend asked, slipping on the jacket. "On second thought, I don't even want to know why you would need to carry potion for yourself that would make you resemble yourself. You're already one strange man in my opinion. Best not to shatter every notion I have of you."

Adrian thrust the vial into his friend's hand and remarked, "If that was a thank you, you're welcome. Now go. It won't last long."

His friend drank the vial of foul potion, made a face, waited a few moments, and when Adrian told him the coast was clear, he slipped back into the hallway where the guards stood in front of the doors containing the letters.

"Best get in there," he said, smiling awkwardly. He slipped past the men, looking at his reflection in the glass on the doors as he went. He cringed when he saw his best friend's reflection looking back at him. Not because his best friend was bad looking, but merely because he thought he was BETTER looking.

He went into another small room and there, in rows of boxes, sitting on at least ten tables, were a multitude of letters. After ascertaining which boxes contained the edicts, he passed by those letters for the boxes containing the second letters with the names of each person's perfect match.

He found his letter easily enough. He flinched and gagged when he saw the name. The girl wasn't that horrid, but there was no way he was being shackled to her for the rest of his life. He needed to find her letter, and then find someone to switch both of them with…when he thought of something.

Whom did Hermione's little blood test pick for her? He went to the boxes with the G's. Flipping through the envelopes, he said aloud, "Garman, Greene, Graham, Granger…there you are." He opened her letter and gasped louder than before. "No effing way!" He was infuriated when he saw the name of the man on her letter. Without another thought, he found the letter of her 'perfect match', and slipped that letter into his envelope and his letter into that man's envelope. Then he did the same with Granger's, slipping Granger's letter into the envelope of the woman meant for him and slipping the letter with his name into Granger's envelope. There. It was done and no one would ever know. It was easy. It made sense. Perfect sense.

Because he loved her.

Therefore, it was a perfect match.

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_*A/N: All will be revealed in a chapter or two. I wonder who the fellow is?_


	2. Chapter 2

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 2 – Two Months before the First Chapter, I know, Strange Time Line, But Follow Closely –**

Hermione Granger felt nervous and upset. Her boss, Adrian Pucey, was presenting one of her theories, a magical blood test, which she had been working on for almost a year, to the Minister of Magic today and for some reason, she wasn't invited to be at the meeting.

Wasn't she the Junior Department Head? Wasn't she the person who came up with the test? Almost ten months ago, Adrian asked all of his staff members to come up with some spell, some potion, or some way to discover if a man and a woman would produce a healthy baby, due to the many squib births that had been happening over the last few years.

Hermione thought of the many Muggle blood tests that could pinpoint diseases, and hereditary anomalies and ailments. Why couldn't they use a similar test on wizards, and even take it a bit farther? As far as Hermione could tell, the main problem with the amount of squib births was the fact that so many purebloods had intermarried over the years, so their blood, and hence their magic, was diluted. She felt certain she could devise a test that would not only weed out diseases and shortcomings, but that could find a person's perfect magical match.

She could even use some of the personality test that Muggle dating services used, by using certain spells, and combine them with her blood test, and therefore, any party who might want to be assured that they had a perfectly normal MAGICAL child could first make certain their future spouse was the perfect match for him or her!

She began her work on her own, and once she was sure that her theory held merit, she told her director, Adrian Pucey, about her theory. He seemed excited and swore her to secrecy. She didn't question the secrecy, as they worked on many secret things in their department. After months of work, and testing, her experiment was proved a success.

Today, Adrian was presenting her findings to the Minister. Alone. He told her that she couldn't come. Her presence wasn't needed. She was hurt at first. Then she was angry. Now she was resigned that she had to stay behind and merely wanted him to hurry back from his meeting so she would know what happened. She busied herself with some lab work, wrote a few reports, and at lunchtime she called Ron to see if he would join her for lunch, thinking some time with her fiancé might take her mind off her worries.

Although she needed some diversion to take her mind off her fears, apparently that diversion wouldn't come way of her fiancé. He was busy, or so he said, so she went down to the Ministry lunchroom all by herself.

Rounding the corner, her tray in her hand, she saw her boss, Adrian, surrounded by a few of his friends, all former Slytherins, and in Hermione's opinion, snakes, each and every one of them. His meeting was obviously over, so she would go ask him how it went. She placed her tray at a table nearby and walked slowly toward their table.

"Hello Gentleman, oh, and Malfoy," she said, eyeing the occupants of the table. Adrian laughed, as did several of the others at her slight toward Malfoy.

"Hey Granger," Malfoy said. "I'm surprise you count Flint and Nott as gentlemen, but there you go, you never were one of disconcerting taste, hence your boyfriend," he looked down, "and your shoes."

Hermione looked down at her shoes, back toward him, and replied, "First, he's my fiancé, and how rude of me, you're right. Let me make amends. Hello Gentlemen, and Malfoy, Nott, and Flint."

Blaise smiled, stood, pulled out the seat between him and Adrian, and said, "That statement only includes your boss and I as the aforementioned gentlemen, how quaint. Of course, you must include him, since he is your boss. Be truthful before you join us, I'm the only gentleman here, aren't I, Granger?"

Adrian stood as well, picked up her tray from the other table, and placed it at the seat beside him. Before she could reply, he said, "No, she probably just didn't see you there, Zabini."

"How did the meeting go?" she asked as she sat down.

"No talking shop," Malfoy remarked, banging his hand up and down on the table. "You don't hear me talking shop, or Flint, or Nott. We make it a rule never to talk about the Ministry when we're having lunch. If you want to sit with the good-looking, popular people Granger, at least play by our rules. It's already too late for you to join us on your looks alone."

"You don't even work at the Ministry, so I'm never sure why you're here so much," she said to Draco. "And Flint works for the Department of Magical Game Regulations, so what would he talk about, Quidditch? Nott works for the Control of Magical Objects, what would he talk about, brooms? No one knows what Zabini does down in the Department of Mysteries, so he never talks shop."

"Ouch and ouch," Theo replied. "I do know a bit more about my job than merely brooms, Granger my sweet, but on that fine remark, I'll take my leave." He picked up his tray and said, "So nice of you to bring us all your joy and happiness, Granger."

"Go shove a broom handle up your…" she began, only to have Adrian place a hand over her mouth.

Adrian snorted, "Play nice, Hermione, or I'll have to sanction you, and I'd hate to do that since I like you ever so much better than him, even if he is my oldest and dearest friend."

"I thought I was your oldest and dearest friend," Draco retorted.

"No, you're your own oldest and dearest friend, because you like yourself better than anyone else likes you, and visa versa," Marcus laughed. "It's a fact that I'm Adrian's oldest and dearest."

Blaise leaned back in his seat, placed his hands behind his head, and said, "I hate to break it to you gits, but I'm Adrian's oldest and dearest."

"You all sound like a bunch of little girls," Hermione stated. "Worrying about whom Adrian likes best."

"Says the little girl," Malfoy said snidely.

"I'm not ashamed of being a girl, you however, should be ashamed of showing your face," she spat. Draco pulled back his spoon, which had some sort of yellow glob on it, and he plopped it right at her.

It landed on her pristine, white lab coat.

"So mature, Malfoy!" she harped. "This was a perfectly clean lab jacket, too!"

Marcus said, "I thought it was a waitress uniform," as he handed her a napkin, which she used to clean the stain. She didn't say anything to his erroneous observation, she growled instead.

When she had finished cleaning the glob from her lapel, she balled the napkin up and threw it at Draco. It bounced off his head and landed on the table.

"And on that, I shall leave," Draco smirked with a laugh. He looked at Hermione again and said, "I should have thrown it at those awful shoes. Really, hideous."

"Arsehole," Hermione barked at him.

"Bad dresser," he spat in return, laughing as he left the table.

She looked at Adrian, sighed and said, "How can you be friends with Caligula? He's repulsive and well, that says it all."

Blaise laughed and said, "And on that pleasant note, in the words of Malfoy and Nott, I shall take my leave. Lovely as ever darling, Granger." He bowed to her and walked away.

"Way to clear a table, Granger," Marcus noticed. "Of course, it's what waitresses do."

"How rude. They left their trays," she noted, ignoring Marcus' comment.

"They probably meant for you to take them up when you're done," Marcus said.

She huffed and said, "For your information, Flint, I'm not a servant!"

"You have a waitress uniform on," he repeated, pointing to her white lab coat. "And it even has a stain on it."

"Ah…that stain is from just now, you moron, you gave me a napkin to clean it!"

"For a servant, you don't clean up very well," he laughed. He stood too and said, "And I'll take the trays, sweet girl, I wouldn't want you to do anything demeaning." He winked at her, took all their trays, save for hers and Adrian's, and left.

She stared at Adrian for ten seconds, not saying a word. Finally, he laughed and said, "Well, you do let them irritate you so, and it is fun to watch. I'm sorry on their behalf. Now, before you ask me again, everything went wonderfully, the Minister is thrilled with your tests. He was happy with the results of the blind studies, and when everything is good to go, we'll start testing the general population, probably as soon as next week."

"What are they going to use the information for, once they test the general population, I mean? I guess what I'm trying to ask is, how are they going to use my tests to help single out future squib births? I hope they aren't going to start to demand that all future married people have these tests to marry. That would be wrong. What if they decide to deny marriage licenses on the basis of my tests?"

Adrian felt hot and bothered by her line of questioning, and by her concerns. The less she knew of the reason for these tests the better. "All you need to know is that you're helping the future of your country, Hermione, and with the future of all magic kind," he said with a smile. He knew she was patriotic. He would play on those sympathies. If all else failed, he would lie to her. No one must know the reason for the testing until after all the tests were conducted. Even the person who came up with them.

Adrian stood up and told her goodbye. And he left his tray behind. She sighed again. She had a funny feeling about things.


	3. Chapter 3

_**All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling **_

**Chapter 3 – Are we Finally in the Present Day? No, Not Quite Yet, But Almost -**

Marcus Flint walked into the Potions and Spells Department of the Ministry of Magic at the bequest of his friend, Adrian Pucey, who sent him an Owl earlier telling him that it was urgent that he speak with him after work. On his way into the department, he saw the one person he most liked to see, but usually acted as if he least liked to see. Feigning complete indifference, he walked casually to her worktable, saying hello to as many people as he could, except for her.

He knew he was a popular fellow. Always was. He was friendly, affable, smart, fairly well off, respected, a good athlete, and those were only his best points. Overall, people went out of their way to say hello to him. They smiled at him, waved, and always spoke. Girls wanted to date him. Men wanted to be him. Everyone liked him.

Everyone except, once again, for her.

Yes, everyone liked Marcus Flint, including Marcus Flint, except for Hermione Granger. The pretty little Potion's Mistress, Assistant Director, all around Gryffindor princess, acted as if she hated the very ground he walked upon. True, she acted the same way toward most of his group of friends, although it was his belief that she seemed especially to shun him.

With Nott, she was usually business like, if not haughty, yet still polite. With Zabini, she seemed actually to flirt with him sometimes. Malfoy, well, no one could trade barbs or fight quite like those two, but still, she seemed to hold the most disdain for Marcus. She certainly called him the foulest names, though that didn't bother him.

The thing that bothered him the most and fed into his belief that she held him in lower regard than the others was because she did something with him that she rarely did with the rest of them…sometimes she completely ignored him. When he teased her, sometimes she wouldn't respond, or she would seem taken aback that he even deemed himself good enough to talk with her. To him, that meant that she generally didn't seem to like him.

She might even hate him. He didn't know why. He didn't hate her. He didn't antagonize her the way Malfoy did. He didn't talk down to her the way Nott did. He never made sexual remarks to her like Zabini. He didn't treat her with disgust or condensation. No, that was the way she treated him.

For that reason, and that reason alone, he tried hard to ignore her, but it never really worked. Instead, he always seemed to seek her out, and then proceed to make her life miserable, much to his everlasting sorrow.

He sat down on her worktable, placing his leg beside her arm, yes on purpose, and he started to flirt with the pretty witch next to her. Granger gave him a hateful gaze, (one of her most hateful), but once again she was completely silent, so he turned to her and said, "You look ever so ravishing today, Granger. New hairstyle?"

Okay, the truth was that she did look very pretty. Her hair was slightly different. And he hated it when she glared at him hatefully, but it was anticipated. Hermione frowned, groaned, and then said, "What do you want? Get off my table." She began to push him, but he didn't move a muscle.

He held her wrists in his hands, encircling them with merely his thumbs and forefingers, and mentioned, "Stop manhandling me. You're a weak little thing, aren't you? I'm here to see Adrian. He said he had something important to tell me."

Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint had been best mates since they were in nappies together. True, they had a tight circle of friends, but these two were the closest. "He mentioned that he wanted to see you after work," she replied. He could almost hear her tack on the word, 'idiot' at the end of that sentence.

Marcus looked at his left wrist, still holding hers in his hand, and while looking at his watch said, "My work day is finished. Isn't yours?"

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon!" She removed her hands from his and wiped her hands on her lab coat. He tensed up. Did she think he was going to give her germs or whatever it was that Muggles always talked about getting from one another?

Hermione sat back on her stool, looked back at the man sitting on her workstation, and said, "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind being this good looking and popular, not in the least. It's not a burden at all. Do you mind me being this good looking and popular?" he asked with a grin.

Now see…here was the difference between him and the rest of his friends. Malfoy would have taken that sentence one-step further. He would have said something terribly mean such as, _'do you mind being ugly and unloved?_' but Marcus couldn't bring himself to be that mean to her. Theo would have said, '_do I mind that you're alive, yes I do.' _Zabini, that dark skinned, handsome bastard, would have probably said something outrageous like, _'do I mind that you want me? No, because everyone does, darling, and I want you, too'_.

His response was tame compared to what the others would have said. Still, she seemed to hate him more than she hated them.

As he predictable, Hermione didn't answer him. She pulled a folder from his hands, opened it, and began to read it. She didn't even ask him to get off her table. Or to leave. Or to die.

He wondered if something was a bit off with her today.

"Granger, why does Adrian want to see me, do you know?" he finally asked.

She bit her bottom lip, in that adorable way she sometimes did, and shook her head no, but tacked on, "Something's definitely going on, though. Something big. Something's up. I can't tell what, but all day long yesterday, Adrian was running around, going from his office to the Minister's office, and then Harry, of all people, went to Adrian's office, and he didn't even stop and speak to me."

"Maybe he doesn't love you anymore," Marcus said softly.

She stood up and said seriously, "No, I don't think that's it." Marcus tried to hide his smile, because she was being so somber and earnest. "Then, after Harry left, these other Aurors came and they left Adrian's office, while levitating all these boxes."

Marcus looked over toward Adrian's closed door. "Huh," he mumbled. That did sound strange. He looked back at her and she looked genuinely worried. He popped her a fake punch to her chin and said, "Chin up, old girl. I bet he's trying to figure out a way to fire you, that's all, and he needs the Aurors to escort you out today. No wait, you can't fire the best friend of the boy who lived, unless she refuses to sleep with you. Did you refuse to sleep with him?" There, he could take her mind off of her problems by being 'mean' to her.

And it worked. He knew it the minute she said, "You're a disease! I don't have to sleep my way to the top. I've gotten here by merit, hence the reason you're nothing but a glorified score keeper for Game Regulations, or whatever it is you do."

"For you information, I did sleep my way to the top," he said. "I can't help it if I slept with all the wrong people, and I got a crummy job as a result of it."

She looked at him, shocked, and then she laughed. She really laughed. He smiled. There. He figured he did two good things. He took her mind off her problems by being mean to her, and then he put himself down before she could, AND he made her laugh. That was three good things!

She blinked twice and tried to hide her smile. He noticed how pretty her eyes were. Brown, warm, and full of life. Her hair was pulled back today, with wisps of it coming loose, making a halo effect around her head. She looked like she had been working hard or had just had a good shag. He preferred to think of her having the latter, with him.

She started to talk to him, which caught him off guard, but he made sure he listened carefully, attentively. Leaning ever closer to him, she explained, "You know, I came up with these tests, the perimeters of which are closely related to Muggle blood tests, and Muggle screening tests for diseases, but also I came up with a spell that is similar to what a Muggle dating service uses to determine compatibility. At the time, Adrian acted as if he was all excited about my work, and he said the Minister was on board, and we tested and tested it until we were sure it was right, and then…well, don't tell anyone this part…" and she placed her hand on his arm and leaned closer still.

She smelled so good. Like some sort of flower that he would never know the name of, because he wasn't the type of bloke to know the name of flowers. She smelled like a rainy afternoon, a spring morning, a summer night, and a winter's eve by the fire, all rolled together. Her mouth was close to his cheek when she said, "well, don't tell anyone this part, but you know those blood test everyone had to take a month or so back? Well, it had to do with my tests. My tests have to do with early screening to discover if people are more likely to have babies without magical abilities, but I'm afraid they might want to use the test for something more. Something sinister."

"Hmmm," Marcus replied, because he couldn't think of one coherent word to say with her touching his arm, her warm breath on his cheek, her mouth close enough to kiss, and her leaning so close to him.

"And I told Ron I was worried at first that they were going to use my test for something unscrupulous, like screening people BEFORE they became engaged, instead of after, as I intended, but now I'm worried that they aren't going to do anything with my work. Adrian hasn't mentioned it all, and every time I ask him if my experiment and my tests are going forward, he tells me to work on something else and not to worry about things."

He looked down at his arm. Her hand was still there. And she was standing slightly between his legs. Geesh. He said, "Then don't worry about things, Granger."

"But what if you're right, Marcus?" she remarked. "What if they are going to fire me, or something? That's why he doesn't want to discuss my work. He's secluded himself in his office all day. He probably can't face me. Maybe he called you here to watch me fall apart, knowing how much you hate me and how happy it would make you."

He frowned, with his entire face. His brows knitted together, his mouth turned down, and he pushed her away from him and jumped down from her table. "First, I wouldn't want to watch you fall apart. It wouldn't make me happy. I don't hate you. And why did you call me Marcus?"

A range of emotions went over her features, ranging from confused to perplexed. "That's your name."

"So? You've never called me it before. You've called me all forms of early man: Cretin, Cro-Magnon Man, and my favourite, Cave Dweller. You even called me that one that I can't pronounce."

"Australopithecines," Hermione answered. "It's another name for a primitive man, and it's a word I've always liked. I wrote a report on him when I was nine."

"Exactly," Marcus snorted, "and once in a blue moon you'll call me idiot, stupid idiot, and my other all time favourite, really stupid idiot. You call me Flint, Marcus Flint, and 'Adrian's questionable friend'. I've known you for most of our lives, and you've never once called me Marcus."

He reached over, flipped the collar of her white jacket, and said, "So there."

She smacked his hand away and said, "Go away, you primate. There, do you feel better?"

"Not in the least," Marcus said, walking away from her. "Not in the bloody least! I think I liked it better when you didn't talk to me and I tried to ignore you, Granger!"

She watched his retreating figure with utter confusion on her face, and he felt just as confused, because damn it all to hell – he loved Hermione Granger, and she hated him. Now what was he supposed to do about THAT?


	4. Chapter 4

_**All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling **_

**Chapter 4 – Not to Confuse you, but This Chapter has Flashbacks, Okay?**

Marcus Flint walked out of the Potion's Department, having decided to wait a few more hours to see Adrian. On his way out, he tried to think of exactly when he fell in love with Hermione Granger. When did 'love' happen? He couldn't recall one big moment when he just knew. Instead, many little moments led him to his conclusion.

A year ago, they were at a Ministry gala, she was standing by the bar, and he walked up to her, he took a canapé right out of her hand, and stuffed it in his mouth. Since she always called him a cretin, he had no quandaries or qualms acting like one in front of her. The problem was that some of it fell on his dress robes, making him appear to be every bit the cave man she was always calling him. She laughed, rolled her eyes, told him that that was what he deserved for stealing her food right from her hand, and then she said, "Didn't anyone ever teach you manners of any kind?"

Before he could respond, or tell her that his parents taught him plenty of manners, (he just usually elected not to use them) she took out her wand and cleaned the spot from the black robes. With a grin he asked, "Am I handsome again?"

Then, to his total shock and mortification, she smoothed down the front of his robes with her hand, patted his chest twice, and said, "I suppose you'll do."

Yep, he fell a little bit in love that night. That was the start of it.

Another time she was in Adrian's office, talking about something boring he was sure, when Marcus came bounding in, unannounced, sweaty and excited, having come from officiating at a Quidditch final. His favourite team won, and in his jubilation, he slapped Adrian on the back, told him, "WE WON!" and then he picked Hermione right up from the floor, swung her around, his arms around her waist, her hands on his shoulders. He looked right in her eyes as he did. Instead of yelling at him she smiled, but insisted, "Put me down."

He placed her back on her feet gradually, sliding her a fraction of a time down his body… slowly.

They had a moment. She stared up at him. He stared down at her. Everything was quiet. It was as if no one else was in the room, as if it was just them. Then he cupped her face in his hands, and though he wanted to kiss her mouth, he kissed her forehead and in his embarrassment, he turned back to Adrian and said, "Forget this boring piece of driftwood and let's go celebrate."

Hermione pushed him away, said something like, "Eww, you're sweaty, you stupid, Cave man," but out of the corner of his eye he saw her place the tips of her fingers on her forehead for a moment. She didn't wipe off his kiss. It was as if she was pressing on it.

He fell a bit more in love.

There were many moments like that. One time they were alone in a lift together. He was in there first when she entered with her stupid fiancé. When the door opened on the git's floor, he left without telling her goodbye. Still, when the door closed she said, "Goodbye to you too, you stupid wanker."

Marcus laughed aloud. She turned to Marcus and smiled. He laughed some more.

Gee, he loved her even more that day. And he hated her stupid fiancé.

Recently, they were at a Christmas party at Adrian's house. She was deep in conversation with the man and Marcus once again interrupted, by storming into the room, sling one arm around her shoulders, one arm around Adrian's, and declaring, "Happy Christmas to one and all!"

He even purposely jostled into her arm so that she sloshed her wine on the floor. Turning to him, she said, "An apology, please."

He looked at the floor, then at her, and said, "I'm sorry you were in my way and made me hit your arm so that you spilled your wine, and on Christmas, too. Be a good girl and clean it up before Adrian asks you to leave his flat."

Once again, she was quiet, but he remembered that as before, she smiled. She didn't yell at him or call him a name. After a heartbeat, she returned, "You be a good idiot and clean it up before I hex your balls off."

Adrian said, "No hexing balls at Christmas," and then took out his wand and said, "Allow me." He cleaned the spilled wine from the tiles of his kitchen floor and walked out of the room, leaving them quite alone.

Marcus leaned on the bar that connected the two rooms, looked out into the living room and allowed, "There are a lot of people here tonight."

She mirrored his body, standing next to him and said, "Too many in my opinion."

He pointed his chin toward someone whom her fiancé was speaking with and said, "Who's that?"

"A new Auror that Ron works with, her name's Tanya, and I hate her guts."

Marcus turned his head toward Hermione and started to laugh. She always was so honest, and that alone could always make him laugh. She turned her head to him and smiled. It was becoming a common occurrence between them, laughing and smiling. He liked it.

He looked back toward the pair and in a whisper, said in a high-pitched voice, as if he were translating for the woman, "Oh, Ronnie, you look so very manly in your manly red and white striped jumper. You don't look like a candy cane at all, and believe me, it looks splendid with your hair."

Hermione laughed, knocked her shoulder into his, and whispered, in a low tone, "Thank you, Tanya, my fiancée told me not to buy it, but I have much better taste than her. She thinks her outfit looks good, but Draco Malfoy told her earlier that it looked like a blind monkey dressed her tonight."

Marcus looked at Hermione's outfit. She had on a lilac coloured dress, and a silver silk scarf wrapped around her shoulders. The dress was beautiful on her. It sparked and shined as much as she did. She looked very pretty. He turned his face back toward their, 'victims' and mouthed, "Yes, well, Ronnie-poo, your fiancée may not have the flare for fashion that I have, with my prostitute outfit, but she doesn't look that bad."

"You think she'll do, huh?" she said, though she was no longer leaning against the bar, nor staring into the other room. She was staring directly at Marcus.

He stood facing her as well. "You said that about me once. You said that I would do. I'm merely returning the sentiment. I think you'll do, too."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she said seriously.

"And that's just sad," he said just as seriously.

"Is it as sad as Ron's red and white striped jumper?" she joked.

Laughing, he answered, "Nothing is as sad as that."

That was right before Christmas, a month ago, and that was when he knew. He loved Hermione Granger.

Now he realized that perhaps she didn't hate him.

Later, he met with Adrian and his friend told him about that stupid marriage edict. He knew he had to do something, anything, to assure that he married Granger. It was almost too easy. When he saw the name of the person that was supposedly 'her perfect match', he felt a wave of jealously. The name on the card said, '**_Draco Malfoy'_**. DRACO MALFOY! Only an insane person would ever think Draco Malfoy was her perfect match. Could anyone even imagine that?

The name on his card said, '**_Anna McAllister'_**. It was easy to switch the cards. It was fate. He put his card in Draco's envelope, put Draco's card in his, and then did the same with Anna's and Hermione's. No one would ever know. Moreover, he would marry the woman that he loved.

In his mind, it was perfect. Yep, the perfect match.


	5. Chapter 5

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 5 – Now we're Getting to the Meat and Potatoes of the Story**

* * *

Hermione opened the window to her flat and breathed in some fresh air. The air was cold, frigid, as the air in January often was, but she felt a bit lightheaded and if she didn't get some fresh air she feared she might pass out any moment.

The last two weeks had been hell. Pure and complete, unadulterated hell! First, everyone got those blasted letters telling them about the new Marriage Law. Before the shock could wear off, the second letter came the next day with the name of each person's 'perfect match'.

She waited two days to open that second letter. First, she waited because she already knew, deep in her heart that her letter wasn't going to have Ron's name on it, even before he opened his letter.

He opened his letter straight away, convinced it would have Hermione's name on it. She didn't let him know that she was less convinced. He opened it and surprise! The name was Carmen Applebee, a girl five years younger than Ron and Hermione, who played professional Quidditch, and who came from a family with ten children.

Harry opened his letter straight away, too, as did Ginny. She knew by the way Ginny screamed and yelled and ran from the room that the results weren't as Ginny had expected. Harry seemed less than thrilled, but not as upset as Ginny. His letter contained the name of Hannah Abbott, who was in their class at school. Who would have thought?

Ron was red faced, angry. Harry was cautious. They both urged Hermione to open her letter. She refused. She told them that she had a confession first. She told them that she was the one that came up with the spell to find everyone's perfect match.

All hell broke loose. Ron shouted and screamed. Ginny came back into the flat and the shrill that came out of her mouth, along with the curses, would have given a drunk sailor/banshee a run for its money. The only one that gave her any support was Harry.

After the Weasleys left that night, he urged her to open her letter.

Two days later, when she was alone, (because Ron had already moved out) she went to the couch in the living room, sat down with her cats, Pepper and Salt beside her, and she opened the second letter. She placed her finger under the wax seal, moved it along the flap, and turned it upside down. The second letter wafted slowly down to the floor. She reached down and held the parchment tightly in her grasp, too afraid to open it…too afraid to see the name.

Whispering, "Please don't be Malfoy, or worst, please don't be Nott or Zabini," she opened the tri-folded piece of parchment and read the print quickly to get to the name.

Marcus Flint.

Her perfect match, by her own spell, was 'Marcus Flint'. She didn't know how she felt about that.

Still, she began to cry.

The third letter came a few days later, informing everyone they were to register with the Ministry and obtain a marriage license with their intended match no later than a month after receiving that letter, or else. Fines, garnishments, disciplinary actions, all sorts of foul things were spelled out if people refused to comply.

The icing on the cake was the bloody fourth letter that came, congratulating everyone. Hermione threw that letter right in the rubbish bin. She didn't know whether to contact Marcus, or wait for him to contact her. Everyone at the Ministry was in shock. People were indignant. People were furious. A very few were pleased.

One pleased person was Marcus Flint. He saw Hermione several times in the hallway after receiving their letters, but she didn't acknowledge him. He knew that meant he would have to make the first move. He wondered how upset she was. He knew that her former fiancé was already celebrating and acting the ever-loving fool with his new bride to be.

That had to hurt Hermione.

Adrian was pleased with his results. He got Daphne Greengrass. They all went to school with her, and she was pretty and pleasant, if not a bit boring. Theo got her sister Astoria. Blaise got Ginny Weasley, lord help them all.

Draco, who confided in Adrian, who in turn told the rest of the group apparently, that he was convinced he was going to get Granger. Instead, he got a pretty blonde named Anna McAllister. He seemed acquiescent with his fate, but still shocked.

When Marcus' friends heard that HE got Hermione Granger every last one of them seemed upset, surprised, and almost appalled. They weren't so much shocked on his part, but on hers. 'Well, thanks ever so much, friends,' Marcus thought.

The night after the second letters went out, they all commiserated at Adrian's flat, and after exchanging their bride to be names, Theo said, "It just seems so unlikely, you and Granger, yet Adrian said that the magic was foolproof."

"Yes, I agree," Draco chimed in. "No offense, Marcus, but what are you two going to talk about, Quidditch? Camping? Fishing? What else is it you do? Oh yeah, watch Muggle telly. She's a more cerebral sort, and I honestly thought she would end up with…well, me."

"I hoped she would end up with me," Blaise admitted. Everyone looked at him quickly. "I did. She's beautiful, smart, and I know each one of us have entertained feelings for her, and frankly, we're just all jealous, Flint. Good for you, I say. I also say, someone kill me please, because I'm going to have to marry Ginny Weasley. Can you imagine ginger-haired black children?"

Everyone laughed, save for Marcus.

He got up from the sofa and headed for the kitchen. He called out, "Going for another beer." When he got to the kitchen, he leaned against the bar and sighed. He did the right thing. He knew he did.

Adrian walked in, patted his back and asked, "Are you alright, friend?"

Marcus nodded.

"A bit shocked, though, huh?"

He nodded twice.

"Like the fellows in the other room, I never would have imagined you with Granger," he admitted. "Sometimes things work out for the best, though. Good thing you had a chance to get an early look, so you could get used to the fact, though, right?"

Marcus eyed his best friend. He knew that he knew. "You know, don't you?"

"Why do you think I called you down to my office and had polyjuice potion that would make you resemble me at the ready? I've known that you've loved her longer than you've known, and I've also known that Weasley's never been right for her, and you two are perfect for each other, no matter what some stupid bloody blood test says."

"What if we have squib babies?" Marcus said with a sly smile.

"You two, come on!" Adrian patted his back. "With your looks and aptitude for all things athletic, and her brains and magical abilities, your children will be special. Plus, they'll have me for an uncle."

Marcus shrugged and said, "And that's all that matters, right?"

Adrian grinned at him and said, "You better call her, and soon. She's been a bundle of nerves around the office. She said she's waiting for you to make the first move, although, I dare say, with what you did with the letters, you already made the first move."

"You'll never tell a soul, will you?" Marcus grabbed Adrian's shoulders.

"And risk Malfoy having her? Or going to prison for life? No way." He smiled again and left Marcus alone. Marcus pulled out his mobile phone and called her, leaving her a voice mail, arranging for them to meet at her flat in two days.

And that meeting day had finally arrived. Hermione was still leaning out the window, the feel of the cold air numbing her nose, when she spied Marcus walking up her sidewalk. He really was an extremely handsome man, not that looks was that important to her. He was warm and affable as well, but she had never exchanged more than a few words with the man. She didn't know him at all.

What were his views on things like politics, and religion? Did he like anything besides sports? What were his favourite foods? Did he chew with his mouth closed? Did he kiss with his eyes closed? Did he want children some day? Did he read? Could he read?

He noticed her, raised his hand, and waved, though he didn't smile. He seemed as nervous as she was. She had to remember that he didn't ask for this either. She probably wasn't the person he wanted to marry. She closed the window with a bang.

Moments later, they were sitting in her living room, discussing 'things' over tea. It all seemed so cordial. It lacked feelings and emotions and Hermione thought that at any moment she was going to burst.

When they finished he stood to leave. He repeated what they had just agreed. "So Monday morning, we'll meet before work and go to the Registrar's office and obtain the license. Then this week well go on a series of dates to get to know each other better. This weekend we'll drive to your parent's house, and explain everything to them, and next Monday night we'll have dinner at my mother's house."

She nodded. "Yes, that all sound amendable."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," she agreed, with another series of nods. Finally, when the silence had stretched to an uncomfortable level, she quipped, "Well, goodbye."

She held out her hand. He reached out and shook it, but then he held it in his. "Granger, I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted."

"Oh, Marcus, please don't apologize. I'm sure it came as more of a shock to you than to me," she said with a slight laugh. "I feel partly to blame, since my test made it so they could pass this stupid law."

"If not your test, they would have come up with another," he affirmed.

"And perhaps they would have made the law without the blood test, and that would have been worse, right? Then we wouldn't have been paired with our perfect match," she responded. He tried to smile at her when he did, but it came off false. He felt like a fraud. A liar. A scoundrel, knowing that he wasn't her perfect match. However, he wouldn't apologize. He wanted her and he took her. End of story. Everything else would fall into place, and he would wash aside all feelings of blame and guilt.

She sighed as she removed her hand from his and opened her door. They stood in the threshold together. "We have so much to discuss, but let's not go overboard with details this week. We have a year before we have to make it official. Let's just have fun and get to know each other this week, okay?" she suggested.

As he nodded his head in yet another nod, he took her hand again, and then leaned forward and pulled her slightly toward him. Without asking permission, he placed his lips softly upon her cheek, kissed her briefly, and then leaned away, letting go of her hand in the process. His heart felt as if it skipped a beat when his lips touched her skin. Her skin was soft, warm, and so sweet. He couldn't wait to kiss her lips.

She reached up and touched her cheek, just as she did that day she touched her forehead. Turning away from him, she closed the door and left him outside in the hallway, but she noticed his frown as she shut the door. The fact that he frowned concerned her.

Marcus started down the hall toward the stairs, frowning, because she seemed so sad, but he would work hard, everyday of his life, to make her happy. He had just reached the head of the stairs when he heard a rapid succession of footsteps behind him in the hall. He turned quickly. She ran to him, threw her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek, and said, "I promise we'll work it out together. Don't be sad. I hate to think that this has made you sad." Arms still around his neck, she leaned away from him, smiled, and then placed her hand on his face, cupping his cheek.

It was the moment he knew that he had made the best decision of his life, by switching those names, and she would never, ever regret it, because he didn't. Not one bit.


	6. Chapter 6

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 6 –The First of Five Dates, Where Marcus Gets Knocked on His Arse and almost gets a Kiss**

**_Monday Date One_**

Hermione Granger sat on a bench outside the Registrar's office at the Ministry of Magic very early that Monday morning and looked over her agenda for the day. She knew it was going to be a busy day. First thing on the agenda: meet Marcus, bright and early, to obtain their marriage license, and then go for a cup of coffee and some breakfast as their first official date.

Almost everyone in Hermione's department had already obtained their licenses, and although the new law gave everyone a year in which to marry, the edict gave them only a month after the initial letters to register their marriage with the Ministry, and two weeks had already gone by. She hated doing anything late, and though she wasn't looking forward to this marriage, she still wanted to do everything by the book, and on time.

Marcus had a different view on things; she knew this about him already. He had a lazy manner and a 'come what may' attitude. Nothing seemed to faze him. He took everything in stride. Hermione was the opposite. She liked structure. She liked schedules and plans and she liked to do everything early or at least on time.

She had hoped, since he had come to her and had helped her to make out this week's schedule of dates, that he would adhere to said schedule, but as seven o'clock turned to eight o'clock, which turned to nine, and there was still no Marcus Flint, she thought that perhaps he had forgotten all about it. She didn't have time to waste two hours waiting for him this morning! She had a lot to do!

Watching all the other couples come and go that morning made Hermione feel sad and angry at the same time. She was finally about to leave the bench outside the Registrar's office when she received an Owl from Marcus, explaining that he had to leave London very early that morning for Bulgaria, to cover for a coworker who was sick, to officiate at a Quidditch match. Hermione took one look at the Owl, and said a resounding, "Humph."

She wondered if this was how things would be with him. Would he always be irresponsible? Would his job always come first? Would things like Quidditch and sports be more important than she was? Frankly, she had enough of that rubbish with Ron, and she certainly didn't expect it with her 'perfect match'.

Quidditch matches could last hours, or sometimes even days. She went back up to her office and went to work. A few hours later she received another Owl telling her that he had just returned and that he would meet her at the office around noon and then they could get lunch, counting it as their 'first date' of the week.

Forgoing her usual lunch, she once again sat on the little wooden bench outside the Registrar's office. She watched witches and wizards passing by, most of them there to get their marriage licenses. Some of them looked happy. This was a good thing, wasn't it? Hermione wasn't so certain, but she refused to blame herself. Her test wasn't the catalyst for this law! It wasn't! Was it?

Again, she waited for almost two hours. She ate one of two apples that was in her bag, drank one of two bottles of water, and read a book, before she finally got up and left. This time there was no Owl from the man, and in her opinion, there were no excuses either. Being late once was excusable. Being late twice, with no explanation the second time, wasn't.

Walking into her department, feeling defeated and a bit morose, she decided to take advantage of the fact that Adrian was gone for the day and advantage of her foul mood as well. She told a few of her co-workers that she was going into the lab, by herself, to work on 'Experiment #305'.

One of her coworkers gasped.

Another one shook his head.

A third said, "Adrian forbade you from working on that. He said the formula wasn't stable yet, Hermione. Anyway, your new betrothed sent another Owl saying he was sorry he missed lunch, but that he had to see to something for his mother, but that he personally asked the Registrar's office to stay open late for you tonight, and afterwards, he said he would take you to dinner."

Again, she said, "Humph." Was she marrying a 'momma's boy'? Ron was a 'momma's boy' and that had caused countless problems with their relationship over the years, but she couldn't remember Ron ever canceling a date for his mother! "I could care less what he had to say!"

"Don't you want to see the Owl? It was a nice letter," a woman said.

Hermione narrowed her gaze, turned on her heels, and said, "No one disturb me, please. I'm going to be working with dangerous ingredients, hazardous really, taking my own life quite vicariously into my own hands, and I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, not that I'm sure anyone cares. It would be nice if someone would have the same consideration for me!"

Her coworkers all looked at each other, but no one tried to stop her.

After work that evening, Marcus waited by the Registrar's office until half-past six. The office usually closed at five o'clock, but Marcus had promised the supervisor tickets to the Minister of Magic's box at the Quidditch game of his choice if he would leave the office open a bit later so that he and Hermione could register their marriage and obtain their license.

However, Hermione never showed.

What she did do was send a messenger up to the main floor, at around seven o'clock in the evening. The boy gave a note to Marcus to tell him that she was in the middle of a very important experiment, the results of which were very significant to another experiment she was conducting, so he would have to reschedule registering their marriage license, and their dinner date would have to be cancelled altogether.

Marcus read the note, crumbled it in a ball, threw the paper on the floor (even though there was a waste receptacle near by) and frowned. Would he always take a backburner to her little experiments? Wasn't obtaining their license and going on their first date as important as some ruddy experiment? He started to leave, when instead, at the last moment, he turned down the hallway and made a beeline to her department.

Walking into her department, he noticed that most of her coworkers had gone for the evening, all except for one man and one woman. He asked the man, "Have you seen Hermione?"

"She's in there, but you can't go in," the man said, pointing toward a set of double doors. "She's working on a very sensitive experiment."

"Sensitive? In what way is it sensitive?" Marcus repeated.

The man looked as if he wanted to say more, but then stopped himself. Marcus made a motion with his hands for the man to continue, and he said, "Alright, Flint, what I meant to say was dangerous. She's working on a very dangerous experiment, and the only reason she's doing it is because Adrian isn't here today. He told her not to work on it until we were certain there would be no danger, but she's decided to go ahead with it anyway."

"What?" Marcus asked, concerned. "Why?"

The woman leaned forward and said, "I think it's your fault."

Marcus whipped around. "How in the hell is it my fault?" he asked the woman.

"You kept putting her off, and I think she's out to get your attention this way," the woman said.

"I haven't kept putting her off! I had to cancel coffee this morning, and then lunch, but she cancelled dinner!"

"Yes, but it's not just that! Everyone else in our department has practically already registered with the Registrar's office. I don't know how you people down in Regulations of Magical Games do things, but up here in the Potion's Department, we are all a bit uppity about doing things on time, particularly Hermione Granger, and the fact that you've already put off getting your license for two weeks, and then cancelled on her again today, was driving her mental," the woman offered.

Marcus made a funny face and said, "Oh, she was already mental. Where is she again?"

The man pointed toward the lab and said, "I told you, in there, but as I stated, you can't go in. She has wards up, anyway. I tried to enter, to see if I could help her, but couldn't enter."

Marcus went to the door anyway. He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. In a soft voice he inquired, "Hermione? Are you in there?"

There was no answer.

He took a deep breath and pulled out his wand. "Hermione?"

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion, the force of which blew the doors open for a moment and knocked Marcus right on his arse. Her coworkers ran to the doors, but couldn't enter the lab due to black, bilious smoke. The woman went down on one knee to attend to Marcus and the man sent up sparks with his wand, explaining, "It's how we send out a distress signal, when there's a problem."

The black smoke began to roll under the cracks in the doors after they closed on their own. Marcus stood, pushed on the doors, but once again they wouldn't budge. Frantic, he said, "What should we do? We have to get in there!" He took his wand and pointed it toward the doors, prepared to blast the things wide open, when Hermione open the left door slowly, coughing, rubbing her eyes, but all in all, well.

"Send out the all's clear, John," she told her coworker through coughs and spurts.

"Get her some water," Marcus shouted. He went to her, and began to rub his hand on her back, in small circles. "Are you bonkers?"

She bent at the waist, trying to catch her breath, having only caught the last word of his sentence. "Bonkers?"

Raising to stand, she was about to tell him where he could go, and what he could do when he got there, when he grabbed her into his arms, and held her tight. He began to rock back and forth, slowly, his hand still moving up and down her spine. Her skin tingled in the wake of his hand.

"Yes, bonkers, you crazy girl, you. You could have been killed, but you always were the bravest woman, no, the bravest person I've known, and how utterly Slytherin of you to wait until your boss was gone to do an experiment that he barred you from doing. What else should I expect from someone as smart as you?"

She was shocked. Ron would have barked at her endlessly, telling her how stupid she was to take such risk. At the very least, she expected Marcus to be angry that she stood him up, since she was angry that he had stood her up today. Instead, he was holding her in his arms, (very nice, strong, supportive arms at that) and was telling her how proud he was of her, and that she was brave and smart. She decided to forget about the 'bonkers' part.

She looked up at him. He took the end of his shirttail, brought it up to her smudged cheeks, and wiped away soot and tears. She said, "Adrian was right, though. The experiment wasn't ready, hence the big explosion you heard."

"Yeah, that was pretty wicked," he remarked with a sly smile. "You should have seen it, Hermione! It knocked me right on my arse!" He wiped the other cheek. She noticed how nice his muscled abdomen was as his shirt rode up, but tried to look away. He noticed that she noticed and was pleased.

"It knocked you down?" she asked, still in his arms, and loving every minute of it.

"Yes, but it's what I deserved. I shouldn't have cancelled. I've learned my lesson."

She pushed on his chest with her hands and said, "Really?"

"Yeah, I learned if I cancel a date with my future wife, she'll cause a big explosion that will knock me on my arse." They both laughed. "Are you alright?" He started to turn her around, lifted her arms, and even placed his hands on her face, then moved them up to her hair, to feel around her head. "No bumps or bruises?"

She loved the way his hand felt on her face, her head, her body. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so protected, or cherished. "Just a bruised pride," she admitted, "Unlike your bruised backside."

"You didn't get knocked on your arse, huh?" he asked with a lazy grin.

She smiled back. "My backside is intact, thank you."

"Let me make sure," he joked. He turned her around and looked. She hit his arm and pushed away from him.

They both laughed. "Come on, Hermione. We can still salvage our first date. The registrar supervisor, the poor git, is still waiting for us. He's stayed late, on the promise that I'll give him some important tickets. I decided not to give them to him until after we got our license, that way he would have to wait all night if necessary, smart of me huh?"

"Very much so," she said. She coughed a few more times, went to her desk, took out a compact and said, "Oh my heavens, I look a sight. I'll meet you down there."

"Are you really coming, or are you going to blow something else up and be a no show?" he joked.

"I'll be down in five minutes," she promised.

He said, "I can wait for you, if it's only five minutes." He would really wait longer than that, perhaps even a lifetime. He smiled again. She decided a woman could get lost in that smile. She ran to the loo, combed her hair, powdered her nose, applied some lipstick, and brushed her teeth. Then she ran back out and went to the coat tree to get her coat.

"Looking for this?" Marcus held up her jacket. He approached her slowly and with tenderness and something akin to a gentleness that wouldn't normally be associated with a man his size, he helped her put her coat on. Turning her to face him, he buttoned the buttons slowly, first the bottom one, then the middle one, and finally, the top one. She held her breath when he pulled the buttonhole over the large button that was directly over her breasts.

She exhaled the same breath when his hands went to the lapels of the jacket and pulled on them slightly, causing her to stumble toward him. "Ready?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Humph," she said once more.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm just, well, nothing, I'm ready." She 'humphed' that time because she was shocked by his tenderness and by how much desire she suddenly felt for him. She didn't expect that. Not at all.

They walked slowly to the Registrar's office. Marcus paid the ten galleons for the license. They both signed their names and that was that. Turning to her he said, "It isn't too late for dinner. We could go somewhere nice, but we'd have to change."

"We don't have to go anywhere fancy," she offered. "Besides, I'm a bit tired."

"Then may I take you to my favourite place?" he asked. She nodded her agreement. He offered his arm. She accepted. They walked to the Floos. He took the floo powder, said something she didn't understand, and took her arm.

They stumbled out of the Floo on the other side, and he immediately placed his hands over her eyes. "This is a bit of a surprise," he began. "I wasn't going to spring this on you yet, but it's just about my favourite place in the whole world. You might think it's strange, but I love it here." He removed his hands from her eyes.

She looked around. They were in an old, abandoned looking house. It was apparent that the place was in the process of being restored and remodeled. "Where are we?" She walked from the fireplace to the center of the room, and looked up. "That's a beautiful chandelier."

"Thanks. I bought this house five years ago," he explained. "I've been slowly fixing it up, without magic, just good old fashion carpentry and know how, when I have time, which seems like I never have enough of, frankly." He laughed. "It's in Muggle London."

She bit her bottom lip, nodded, and went from the living room into the room across from it. "What's this room?"

"I don't know," he said frankly. "I guess it could be another parlor. The house has fifteen rooms, so I suppose I should decide what every room's purpose is, but I haven't gotten that far yet."

She walked over to the windows. There were large bay windows, lead paned glass, arched at the top near the cornice by the ceiling. She opened her mouth in awe when she saw the beautiful light in the middle of this room, more lovely than the one in the first. She walked from room to room, asking questions, receiving answers. He was pleased that she seemed interested in his house. He wasn't sure that she would be.

"So you wouldn't mind living here, would you?" he suddenly asked as they descended the stairs from the unfinished attic at the end of their tour. He reached the bottom step and turned off the light, leaving them in mostly darkness, the only light coming from a small portal window at the end of the attic, and the light from the second floor hallway, where the attic door stood open. He turned to face her. "I mean, it will have plenty of rooms, and you can pick out any room you'd like for your library, or whatever special room you want."

She stopped on the stairs. He was a few steps below her. When she stopped he stopped. His hand went to the switch on the wall to turn the lights back on, but she reached over and placed her hand directly on the light switch before he could turn it back on. Even in the dark, he could tell see that she looked shocked and surprised by his question. Unable to stand the suspense of waiting for her answer, he asked, "Well?"

It hadn't really dawned on her until that moment that they were truly going to marry and live together. They would have to live somewhere together. Together. She would have to live with him. And do other things with him. Together. She sat down on the dusty stairs and didn't say a word. He didn't know what to make of that.

He sat beside her, though it was a tight fit. "If you'd rather live elsewhere, that's fine. You might like a more modern house, or perhaps you'd rather live in magical London, right?"

She shook her head. "This makes it all seem so real, you know?"

He nodded. "It is real, Hermione," he replied.

He picked up one of her hands from her lap and began to play with her fingers, before placing her hand on his knee. Tracing his index finger over the tops of her fingers he remarked, "I'm glad it's real." When nothing else was said between them, he broke the silence with, "You have such pretty hands. Artistic really, and very graceful. Mine are rough, and I've broken probably each finger once or twice playing Quidditch. I don't know why I said that. How stupid of me. I'm sorry." He suddenly felt self-conscious for touching her with his 'rough hands' and for making such an asinine remark. He also felt terrible for standing her up earlier, and for overwhelming her by showing her this house on their very first date, and then having the nerve to ask her if she wanted to live here.

He placed her hand back on her lap and started to stand. He felt a pull on the back of his shirt. She tugged on his shirt, to urge him back down. He sat back down beside her again. "Never mind me," she started, "It's just that I suddenly feel as if I've been knocked on my arse," she joked with a small laugh, adding, "just like you were earlier. This is all so overwhelming, but that doesn't mean I'm regretting anything."

She took his hand in hers. She loved the feel of it. It was large, but he had nice nails, and his hands looked strong, protective. She brought the top of his hand to her lips and placed a small kiss there. He forgot how to breath at that moment, and only remembered how when she said softly, "I'd love to live here someday."

And that was their first date. They sat on the steps to the attic, with the only light coming from the moonbeams reflecting from the round portal window above them. She found another apple in her bag and he found a pocketknife in his jacket. They shared an apple, and a bottle of water, and talked about his house, and all his plans. He asked her suggestions, of which she had plenty to offer. When evening turned to night, and the moon went to hide behind the clouds so that the attic was almost pitch black, he stood and told her that he would see her home.

They went to the Floo and she confirmed their next date, which was the next day. "And you won't be late, or stand me up, right?"

"Never again," he smiled. "I told you earlier, I've learned my lesson."

"If nothing else, I've taught you something. That's more than I ever did with Ron," she joked. "I can Floo home by myself. Thank you for a lovely first date." She placed both hands on his chest, leaned toward him, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed the side of his mouth, almost on his lips, but not quite.

Still, it was the best 'almost' kiss Marcus Flint ever received.

And in another part of town, Draco Malfoy was heading back to his penthouse after having seen his solicitor. He and a few other purebloods were going together to file a complaint against the Ministry of Magic, to challenge the new Marriage Law, because by all that was right and righteous, no one could force Draco Malfoy to do something he didn't want to do. No one.

Moreover, of course, he didn't happen to think that this woman, Anna McAllister, was his 'perfect match'. While he found her pretty, smart, and witty, she didn't challenge him the way he would expect someone considered his 'perfect match' to do so. Hell, Hermione Granger challenged him more than his prospective bride did, and she wasn't even his 'perfect match'. No…she was Marcus Flint's, the stupid prick

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Who would ever have thought that Draco Malfoy would cause trouble? He always seemed like such a nice young man, too. Humph. ___


	7. Chapter 7

_**All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling **_

**Chapter 7 – A Rather Awkward Excursion, in my Opinion, but at Least it's a Long Chapter**

Running down the hallway of the Ministry, Hermione was well aware that she was late for her date with Marcus. She didn't want him to think she was late on purpose, because he was late the day before, so she ran down the halls as fast as she could, and still have a measure of decorum. When she reached the grand foyer, she rushed over to the Floos and skidded to a stop on the green marble floor, wet from the recent rain.

The only thing that stopped her from falling over was a strong arm that went out to catch her around her middle. It was Draco Malfoy.

He steadied her. "Watch where you're going, Granger."

She was breathing hard, from exertion, and she smiled at him and said, "Thanks, Malfoy." His arm was still around her waist, so she concluded, "I'm steady now. You can let go."

"Maybe I don't want to," he mumbled, letting his arm drop. He was taken aback that she smiled at him.

"Excuse me?" She genuinely didn't hear him.

He relaxed against the Floo and said, "There's no excuse, Granger," and then he smirked.

She didn't know what that meant, nor did she have time to find out, since she was late. She started to leave, when she turned back to him. "May I ask you something?"

"You may ask," he said in clipped tones, "I may not answer."

"Why do you always call me Granger? You know my name. It seems highly disrespectful."

"Who said I respected you?" he countered.

She wanted to sigh openly, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Fine. You don't respect me. You can't stand the sight of me. I'm lower than you. I'm inferior. I'm not fit to wipe the dirt from your shoes."

He lifted a polished black, booted foot and said, "Well now, I wouldn't say that."

She pushed him. Hard. She couldn't help it. He aggravated her so much. He stumbled into the wall slightly, but grabbed her wrists to right himself. She felt a restricted sense of panic when his eyes turned dark and hooded. He pulled her toward him, hard, uncaring, and said, "You are going to regret everything, Granger."

"Everything?" she asked sarcastically. "Not as much as your parents regret begetting you."

They stood like that, her wrists in his hands, her against his chest, until Adrian walked toward them. He cleared his throat and said, "Malfoy, kindly let go of my Assistant Director. Good help is so hard to find these days." Malfoy pushed her toward Adrian, who placed a hand on her back.

As Adrian and Hermione stood in line for the Floo, Malfoy said, "One more thing, Granger."

She rolled her eyes and asked, "What?"

"It's not disrespectful. It's familiar. It's, it's…it's comfortable. I would never disrespect you." He glared at her, and she finally nodded and smiled at him. Again. He turned and stalked away.

"What was that all about?" Adrian asked.

Hermione watched him leave and said, "I have no idea," although she felt she did.

Malfoy couldn't recall the last time Granger had smiled at him, yet she had just smiled at him twice. He was about to say something else to her, but she was already through the Floo and out of sight.

The rain was falling heavy and the sky was a deep hazy gray. Though it was January, there was humidity in the air. The closeness of the air, combined with Marcus' nervousness, nearly choked him. Hermione was late.

He waited patiently for Hermione at the place she designated for their second date. He was early, true, which just intensified the fact that she was late. He was early because he wanted to make up for being late the last time. She was probably late for the same reason. He scanned the car park for her car but didn't see it. Why did they have to come to a Muggle establishment?

He would wait inside for her, but somehow he thought that would make him more anxious. He wasn't one of those wizards who easily traipsed from the magical world to the Muggle world. He rarely ventured out to Muggle stores or to Muggle events. Yes, the house he was restoring was in a Muggle neighborhood, but many wizards lived among Muggles. They just didn't associate with them.

But Hermione was a Muggle-born. Her parents were Muggles. He would have to learn to adapt to their ways. He chuckled internally when he thought of Malfoy trying to adapt to anything Muggle. It was a good thing he switched those names…wait, why did he think of Malfoy?

Damn, he felt guilty. He truly did. He went to a pub with his friends for lunch that very day, minus Malfoy, and the blokes told him how miserable Malfoy was. Apparently he was hiring the best Magical attorneys there were to fight the new law. Marcus looked down at a puddle. The raindrops hit it at uneven intervals and he watched them as they made the water ripple. Draco was going to be trouble. The best thing he could do was to marry Hermione the soonest he could, that way, even if Malfoy overturned the law, or worst, found out what Marcus had done, it would be too late.

He heard footsteps and looked up. She had her hand over her face, and she was running toward the building. She didn't have an umbrella. Her hair was curly and was bouncing all over the place. He had never seen her look lovelier.

He wanted to capture her in his arms and never let go. Instead, he reached out one hand to steady her as she slid to a stop before him. She joined him under the awning and said, "Sorry I'm late."

"Getting back at me?" he teased, dropping his hand.

She shook her head. Drops of water splashed his jacket and his face. She looked back at him and said, "Heavens no. I was held up at work. Adrian and I had to have a meeting with the Minister regarding the Malfoy problem."

Marcus frowned. "Why?"

She bit her bottom lip and then said, "Malfoy's lawyers want a copy of my formula. They want to try to reproduce it. They say it's faulty. Of course, we aren't under any obligation to give it to them. The Minister thinks this will all die down, but Adrian told me later that Malfoy will never let this go. I wonder why he's so upset? Why can't he just accept it like the rest of us?"

Marcus looked over her shoulder, his mind racing. He said, "No clue." He was now no longer guilty. Now he was worried. His mind battled things over and over as she continued to talk.

"Did you hear me?" she asked. Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked down at her hand first, then into her warm brown eyes.

"What?"

"I said I feel sorry for the woman who was picked for him. She must feel terribly rejected and dejected right now. I don't know her at all, but one of my co-workers does, and they say she's really nice and smart and very pretty. He hasn't even met with her yet, or registered to get their license, or anything."

"Huh, I didn't know that. Shall we go inside?" He wanted to change the subject, because now he felt guilty again. He didn't want to hurt some woman he didn't know, but he had, because he was selfish. Still, he would do it again in a heartbeat. If the shoe was on the other foot, Malfoy would have done the same thing. He would have taken what he wanted at any price without any regrets.

Hermione smiled and pulled on the glass door. That smiled sealed the deal. He would do it a hundred times over again and then even some more.

The Muggle department store was huge. Marcus was in awe. There were a set of moving stairs not far from the doors, just like at Hogwarts, except these stairs moved only up and down. She started toward the stairs and he stayed put. Turning back to him, she took his hand and led him to the stairs. The stairs were made of metal, with strange grinding teeth on the sides. The railings moved as well as the steps. She placed her feet on one of the steps and Marcus followed suit, without hesitation, as she still held his hand.

"This is an escalator," she relayed.

He didn't know that. "I knew that," he lied. He felt so out of his element. Was this how it would always be with her? They stepped off the moving stairs and he followed her along, still holding her hand. If nothing else was right, that was. Her hand fit right inside his. She was extraordinary. And she was his, no matter what Malfoy did or said.

"I can't believe you wanted our second date to be at a Muggle department store," Marcus finally stated.

She dropped his hand and started toward the housewares section. "I thought we could kill two birds with one stone." He looked puzzled, so she quipped, "Sorry, Muggle saying. What I meant was, I thought we could combine our date with getting my parents an anniversary gift. Their anniversary is next Saturday. That's why I'm, I mean, that's why we're going to their place this weekend. What do you have planned for tomorrow night?"

"I have to plan tomorrow's date?" he asked seriously.

She had a pretty vase in her hand. She almost dropped it when he asked that question. His quick reflexes saved it. He took it from her and placed it back on the shelf as she said, "Marcus that was the whole purpose of making our agenda. We planned this week out carefully. Our first date was getting our license and having breakfast together, and though that changed from our plan, it was still nice." She removed her coat and draped it across her arm. He took it from her and placed it across his.

He walked along with her, his hand on the small of her back. She liked that. It felt nice and warm. She felt protected, although from what, she didn't know. She had never been aware that she liked the feeling of a big strong man to look after her before, because usually she was the one that protected the men in her life, but she rather liked the fact that Marcus seemed to do little things that denoted his protection over her without even knowing it.

When he was standing directly behind her, he leaned down and said in her ear, "You thought our impromptu date at the house was nice?"

She shrugged that shoulder, and batted him away, because his breath tickled her neck. Looking over her shoulder, smiling, she said, "Yes, it was nice to sit and talk and get to know each other a bit more. I liked talking about your house with you."

He leaned against a display case and replied, "Our house."

Swallowing hard she said, "Yes, well, our house. The point is, we made that agenda, and we should stick to it. You planned that date, I planned this one, you plan the next, and I plan the one after that, leaving us to Friday, which is when we drive to my parents to spend the night."

"And Sunday's at my mother's," he reminded.

"Right." She nodded.

"I thought your little list was a lark. A bit of fun. I didn't know we were meant to follow it by the letter. I didn't know it was an actual agenda. You didn't give me a copy or anything, so I took it as something fun, not reality." He took an ugly picture frame out of her hands, shook his head in disgust, placed it so high on a top shelf that she couldn't possibly reach it without magic, and added, "What's wrong with spontaneity? What's wrong with deciding things in the moment, living your life as it is, taking things as they come? I don't like lists. I don't like plans. I don't like my life to be planned out and I don't like agendas."

"Well, I do. I like to plan things," she said, poking him in the chest. "I like to know what's going to happen before it happens."

"That's impossible, implausible, and improbable," he alliterated.

She sighed. "No, it's how I like things to be." She reached in her purse and took out the list. "Why did you agree to come to my house last weekend and make this list if you weren't going to adhere to it?"

"Merlin, do not tell me you saved the actual list," he laughed. "You are one uptight little witch, Granger."

"Don't call me Granger," she said with a frown, thinking of Draco and the fact that he always called her that. "It's disrespectful."

"Malfoy always calls you Granger," he reminded. She stared into his eyes at the mention of Draco's name. He took the list right out of her hand and began to read it.

She walked away from him and began to look at crystal bowls. "What does he have to do with anything? That doesn't mean I like it when he calls me that. Anyway, he only does it because it's familiar." She turned to him and allowed, "Now, please give me my list so we can continue shopping." She held out her hand.

"No," he answered. "I'm going to teach you to live in the moment, Hermione Granger. First things first, people who live in the moment don't need a blasted list to tell them what to do."

He balled her list up in his fist and said, "Watch me be spontaneous. I bet I can land this in that blue vase up on that shelf." She turned to look at him, reached for the list, but it was gone two seconds later. It swished through the air and landed directly in the glass vase. "YES!" he said, bringing his fist up to pump up and down.

When he looked at her he saw that not only was she not smiling, she looked as if someone had killed her pet bunny or something. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes were on the list in the vase, and she actually reached her hand up toward it and said, "My list. My poor little list." She turned to him, hit him hard on the chest, and said, "You Neanderthal! Go get that list!"

He smiled down at her. When she was full of righteous indignation, he was in heaven, because she was full of passion. He could imagine that passion being put to better use. Still, he pulled out his wand to Accio the list to him. She quickly pushed his hand back. "Not here!" she warned.

He wasn't thinking. He pocketed his wand and went over to the vase, took out the crumbled list, flattened it on his thigh, and handed it to her. "Here is your all important, high and mighty list."

Her shoulders heaved upwards as she took it from him and placed it back in her purse. Under her breath she said a small voice, "It doesn't matter," but Marcus had a feeling he had seriously injured her pride, and that it mattered very much, at least to her, which meant it now mattered to him. She started to walk away from him, but he reached out and pulled on a strand of her hair.

"Oww," she moaned, turning swiftly. Still holding her long hair in his hand, he curled the long strand of hair around his finger to pull her closer. When she was standing right in front of him, he released her hair and moved his hand slowly down her head, then cupped her cheek. Suddenly, Marcus felt a pang of remorse. He felt remorse for teasing her about her uptightness, and her list, but more so, he felt regret for the impulse to switch those names, to make her his, which was the ultimate selfish act. Just like when he threw her list up in a vase, he hadn't given it any thought. He just did it.

Perhaps the fact that he loved her wasn't enough for them to be together, or maybe it was. At that moment, he didn't know. He only knew that he had hurt her feelings and he hated that.

She was so beautiful. So smart. There was even innocence about her, as if the evilness of their world, in which she had a hand in defeating, hadn't touched her in any way. Her hair hung in soft curls and waves around her face. His fingertips touched it as his hands moved to the warmth of her redden cheeks. "I know this is all so awkward, Hermione," he reasoned. "And my acting like a great oaf isn't helping things any. Listen, I'm not some sensitive chap who recites love sonnets, or gives girls flowers, or tripe, but I'll try to be more like you want me to be, okay?"

Slowly, almost self-consciously, she placed both hands on his chest, inside his open coat. "I don't need sensitive, but I can't be married to a man who would make fun of me, or belittle the things I respect or do. The things that are important to me just are, and that doesn't mean they have to be important to you, but if you can't accept that, then we have a problem. I have a problem." She stopped and added, "Oh my stars…" and she suddenly hung her head, until her forehead touched his shirt. "What if Malfoy was right and my formula was faulty? What if there are people running around out there thinking they're with their perfect matches and they aren't?"

Looking back up at him she said, "You're spontaneous and late for things. I make list and am always on time."

He placed her coat on the display case beside them and placed his large hands back on her face. He forced her head up, and then reached around her with one arm holding her steady against his frame. "Hermione, may I remind you that I was early this time and you were late, and sometimes it's our differences that make us appreciate things about the other person." Beyond that, he didn't know what to say. She leaned into him, her arms going from the front of his shirt around to his back, under his jacket. He pulled her into the tightest embrace he could and merely held her.

Their bodies melded together like iron. This hug, this embrace, was so much more intimate than any kiss they could share. All difference aside, they had this in common. He imagined touching her bare skin, easing her down on a soft mattress, removing her clothing, touching her all over, sinking between her thighs. He wasn't even aware that his lips were moving across her forehead and her face until he heard her whisper, "We're in a department store. People might see."

"I know, and kissing isn't on your schedule," he said back, gazing into her pretty face, "but I want to kiss you now. Be impetuous and impulsive, my Hermione." His mouth hovered above hers for a fraction of a second before it descended. Her lips were soft and pliable and tasted sweeter than he imagined. He tried to restrain himself, but he continued to kiss her, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, until he couldn't breathe.

When he lifted his head from hers, she immediately placed her forehead on his chest. He stroked her back, and said, "I will never hurt you. I will do everything within my power to protect you, even if that means protecting you from me. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."

"Why did you call me, 'my Hermione?' just now?" she asked.

His lips moved softly on her forehead and he said against her skin, "Because you are."

She liked that. She also appreciated the fact that he apologized. In all the years that Hermione had known Ron, and she had known him half of her life, he had only apologized once or twice to her, but never, NEVER, because he had bruised or hurt her feelings. She squirmed from his embrace, nodding her agreement, feeling flushed, and blushing. She looked around. There weren't many customers, so she didn't know if anyone saw or not. She wasn't sure she cared.

She moved to a table that had colourful, hand-blown, glass vases. Trying to act nonchalant, as if his kiss hadn't left her toes tingling, she picked up a blue one and announced, "I feel impulsive suddenly and I don't think we need to keep looking. I think this one will do. I'll get it. Let's go."

"Does that mean the dates over?" Marcus asked, somewhat chagrined.

Hermione kept her head down and smiled. If he thought the date was over, he was sorely mistaken. "No, the obligation, or the mission, which was to buy my parents an anniversary present, is over. Now we have all day for the date." She smiled brightly at him. "And look, you already got the kiss out of the way, too. That was scheduled for the end of the date, but being a 'spur of the moment' type of chap, you spontaneously added it to the start of the date. How industrious of you."

She laughed and went to the cashier. Marcus came up behind her, her jacket once more draped across his arm, and he poked her on the side until she squealed and almost dropped the vase, except once again, his quick reflexes came in handy as he helped her hold onto it, his hand over hers.

"Boy, you're quick," she said.

He gave her a crooked grin and said, "Believe me, darling, I'm not quick with everything, and that kiss was not an 'after the date' kiss. You're still going to get one of those. That was an 'I'm sorry kiss'. Much different. You'll come to find these things out." He swung his arm lightly across her shoulders, pulled out his wallet, and paid for her purchase with Muggle money when the clerk announced the price.

She raised an eyebrow.

The clerk began to wrap the vase as Marcus responded, "What? Can't a bloke by his wife to be a present for her parents?"

"Thank you," she allowed. He swung his arm back around her shoulders, as if it belong there, took the package and held it in the other arm with her coat, and said, "Let's see what other adventures await us here in Muggleville."

She laughed as they walked on their way, having already forgiven him, and feeling every bit as spontaneous as he was suddenly.

At the Ministry, most people had left for the day, as the hour was late and most departments were closed. Down in the Department of Mysteries, Draco Malfoy had his feet propped up on the desk of his friend, Blaise Zabini. Blaise walked into his office and said, "Feet off the desk, Malfoy. I know you were NOT raised in a barn, since your house is the largest house in all of the wizarding world."

Draco kept his feet where they were and said, "Well, are you going to be able to help me or not?"

"Not," Blaise said, pushing Draco's feet off his desk. He sat on the corner of the desk and looked down at his friend. "You'll just have to wait until your lawyers come up with some legal way to get your Granger's formula."

"Damn," Malfoy mumbled under his breath. "Can't you break into the files up there, or something? I know, let's kidnap her, and we'll use the Imperius on her, or Veritaserum or something."

Blaise gave him an incredulous look and said, "I hope you're joking. Meanwhile, please leave. I have to meet my betroths' family tonight. Ugh, I almost tasted the bile when it came into my throat that time."

"Don't you see, Zabini?" Malfoy stood and faced his friend. "Ginny Weasley isn't your match! Anna McAllister isn't mine, and I know there's no way Granger belongs with Flint. Either Granger's potion had flaws to it, or someone messed with the results."

"First, if you're going to do something illegal, instead of using an unforgivable on Hermione Granger, why don't you try to obtain the results of the testing, instead of the formula that was used," Blaise said, looking every bit as bored as he really felt.

"Didn't the results go out to each applicant?" Draco asked.

"This is the Ministry, Malfoy," Blaise retorted. "You have to know they kept copies of the results somewhere. I don't know where, but I bet Pucey does. Go bother him and leave me be. I have to go home and change into something old and dirty, to meet my new in laws."

He turned to leave Draco, but turned back and said, "And for your information, I'm pleased with my results. I really am, even if I act otherwise. I think most of the people I know are happy with the results. I don't think Hermione's potion was wrong. You're the only one that's unhappy with the results. Nott seems happy, as does Adrian and Flint. Especially Flint."

Blaise held his door open and Draco walked out repeating, "Yeah, especially Flint."


	8. Chapter 8

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 8 – I don't have a Title for This Chapter Yet, Let's just call it Chapter 8  
**  
Hermione Granger was confused. Sitting at her workstation the morning after her second date with her future husband, she thought of Marcus and how shopping with him had been a pleasant experience, yet how it also gave her pause to reconsider some things about him.

Strolling down aisles, through different departments of the large Muggle department store yesterday, an easy conversation passed between them. They teased each other, talked about their pasts, and their hopes for their futures. They did practical things - she helped him pick out a shirt for her parents' house and he helped her pick out a new jumper, and they did impractical, fun things – she tried on five different perfumes and bought her four of them.

There was never a lull in the conversation. When she dropped her purse, he picked it up and told her he would carry it if she wanted. In fact, he carried all their packages and her coat. She declined his offer to carry her purse, but she loved the offer just the same. There was something basic and chivalrous about the fact that he did these small things for her. She imagined he did them because of the way he viewed things…that he was the man, she was the woman, and that was the way things were.

However, after she bought two large books and he started to carry that bag as well, she told him, "You know, just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm weak. I can carry my own bags."

He smiled at her and said, "Goodness, Hermione, I know you're strong and capable. I only wanted to carry your bags because I wanted to do something nice for you; it's as simple as that. Don't read too much into things. You can do something nice for me later."

That statement made her 'read' everything into everything! For instance, his small touches, some on purpose, some innocent and unabashed, made her feel special and as if he cared for her. When he held her hand his thumb would rub the inside of her palm. Guiding her through the store, he would place his hand on the small of her back. When they'd stop to examine something, he would keep his hand in place and move it slowly up and down.

When he tried on shoes and she made fun of them, he laughed along with her. But then he leaned toward her chair, moved her hair away from her shoulder with a touch that sent shivers down her spine, and then he pulled her closer with a hand behind her head. When they were nose to her nose, and she was convinced he was going to kiss her, he pleaded with her to stop laughing at him instead, claiming that he was sensitive. That statement only made them both laugh even more.

The fact that he continued to pay for everything, made her see that he did so out of generosity, not to be bragging or boastful. When they sat down for coffee at the end of their excursion, she offered to go up to the counter to get it and he plopped down at the table and told her, "Thanks. I told you that you would have a chance to do something nice for me today. I think your hike through the department store has worn me out completely!"

Again, for some odd reason, one in which she didn't understand, that small sentiment endeared him to her.

She wondered, as they ambled along, if this was what marriage to him would be like. Would it be pleasant? Nice? Easy? Happy? Comfortable? She needed that in her life. One might even say she craved such things.

She had been afraid that he wouldn't stimulate her mentally, but then she found that he was quite intelligent and an earnest conversationalist. He challenged her on a few of her opinions, which surprised her. She challenged him on a few of his, and he had ready argument at hand in which to back his opinions. She thought he would easily go along with everything she thought and said.

He didn't. She liked that.

Did they have much in common? Not at all. She liked classical music. She found that he had a penchant for Muggle Rock'n'roll. When she asked him his favourite book, he laughed and said he couldn't remember the last time he read a novel, but that he was very fond of a book called, 'Plumbing for Dummies' because it helped him fix the toilets at the house he was renovating.

She asked him his favourite food. No surprises – the man liked steak. Steak and potatoes. She told him she was a vegan. He didn't even know what that was.

Still, when they spied a very pretty bracelet in the jewelry department, one that looked as though it was made of a silver vine, with small white flowers upon it, Hermione exclaimed, "Oh, that's so pretty. I wonder what sort of flowers those are?"

Marcus picked up the fragile bracelet. It looked so small and delicate in his large hand, and after moving it around for a moment he proposed, "They're gardenias."

"Really?" She took the bracelet away from him, looked at it again, and said, "You're right. How could I not know that? That's one of my favourite flowers in the whole world. I thought you said you didn't know things like flowers and poems and such." She looked up at him intently, waiting for his response. Instead of responding, he took the bracelet from her hand, placed it back on the counter, and they began to speak of other things.

Today, her mind was crowded with thoughts of the man whom she had assumed was only interested in sports and house building, but who could also distinguish the correct genus of flowers on a small silver bracelet. He was a true conundrum.

He kept either his hand on her back, or holding her elbow, or her hand, the entire time they walked. Yet she didn't get the impression that he did it out of possessiveness, as Ron used to do at times. He did it because he held her in high esteem, and he wanted to shelter and protect her.

She might be falling in love. Perhaps her potion worked after all. She was looking forward to this afternoon's date.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Marcus Flint found himself whistling. He never whistled, yet he was roaming down the hallway at the Ministry and he was whistling. He wasn't even aware what tune he was whistling, only that his lips were puckered, and that sound was emitting from them. He stopped whistling when he stepped inside the Potion's Department.

He spied her right away. Even from afar he could smell her scent. She used the same scent everyday. He almost laughed aloud when he saw her shocked expression when he bought her four bottles of perfume yesterday! He did it on a whim. He doubted she would ever wear them. She wouldn't smell like her if she did.

He liked her just as she was.

He walked toward Hermione's desk, still ruminating about their date yesterday. Unlike usual, when he would enter this department, he would act laid-back and tell almost everyone hello but her. However, this time, she was the first person he sought. He walked lazily toward her, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't bother looking up, even when he started to whistle again.

Thinking about their date yesterday, as well as what he had planned for today, made him stop whistling for a moment. He enjoyed shopping with her yesterday. He usually hated shopping. When former girlfriends would want him to go shopping with them, he felt as if he was nothing more than a pack mule, or a wallet, brought along to carry their purchases or buy them. With Hermione, he wanted to carry her load, he wanted to buy her things, wanted to walk beside her, he wanted the date to continue and never end.

They laughed, talked, and touched almost the entire time, and he couldn't remember a time when he felt happier or more complete. Though Marcus was handsome, he wasn't the ladies' man that people assumed he was. Even when he played professional Quidditch, he didn't often date the many women who hung around the locker rooms or frequented the bars. He never liked empty one night stands. When he did have sex with the occasional woman, that was all it was – sex. He didn't like to share kisses with them. He didn't want to linger around after the deed was done. He couldn't put up a front, or pretend that he care for a woman when he didn't.

And with Hermione, that was easy, because he legitimately cared for her, so it wasn't a facade or contrived. He loved her. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to spend time with her. Watch her laugh. Listen to her talk. Take in all the subtle nuances that made her the woman that she was. The woman that he wanted. The woman that he took as his own. Heaven help them all if she ever found out that little tidbit!

His heart felt so full that he couldn't begin to express everything that he felt for her. Therefore, instead of talking, he began to whistle again. And now he was whistling right behind her desk.

"Hush, that's annoying," she finally scolded. Then she looked up. He gave her a lazy smile and she smiled back. She placed her quill on the desk and said, "Sorry, didn't know it was you."

"You mean to say that I'm not annoying?" he asked, raising one eyebrow and giving her a crooked grin. Every time he grinned at her she did one of three things. She smiled in return, blushed, or looked down.

This time she looked down and blushed before she amended, "No, the whistling is still annoying, but I wouldn't have told you to hush. If I had known it was you, I would have told you to shut the hell up, I'm trying to work."

He clutched his hands to his heart, and with a 'woe is me' expression uttered, "You wound me, my Hermione. You truly, truly do."

"Oh please. You're not sensitive enough for me to wound with mere words," she teased in return, although she thought those words were perhaps false and that a man like him could easily be wounded. "Did you stop by for lunch? Is that what you have planned for our third date?" she asked, glancing at the clock, and feeling slightly disappointed, though she had taken him to a department store for her date, she had assumed he would plan something better.

He turned his head and glanced at the clock on the wall as well. He hardly ever wore a watch. He told her, "No, as it's almost noon, I thought we could go on our date a bit early. We'll need the time."

"I still have hours of work here," she relayed. "Our date will have to wait until at least after five."

He pulled on her long plait, a bit hard, and said, "It's now or never, Miss Granger. Come on. Remember yesterday's lesson. Be spontaneous."

"That's not quite what I learned yesterday," she said, still recalling all the things she liked about Marcus from yesterday's date, although she couldn't tell him that. She stood up beside him, and reached for his hand to give it a small squeeze. She didn't have to do that, but she wanted to. Apologetically she said, "Adrian would never let me leave this early, anyway, so we'll have to wait."

"Don't tell him. Sneak out, or tell everyone you're ill," he forged on, thinking off the cuff. "Or you could merely tell them you're the best thing they have in this department, so they had better give you whatever you want, or you'll quit."

"Or I might just be fired instead," she tacked on. She sat back at her chair and said, "Sorry, it'll have to wait."

"It can't!" He pulled her arm. Her chair had castors so she started to move, chair and all. He dragged her (and her chair), laughing, with the entire staff watching them, all the way to Adrian's doorway. Marcus didn't bother knocking, he opened the door, leaned his head in, told a surprised Adrian, "I'm kidnapping your Assistant Director," and then he pulled Hermione by the doorway.

She waved at Adrian as she passed. Adrian only laughed and said, "Fine, but return her in the same state in which you're taking her, and kindly close my door please!" Hermione reached out and closed it as she whizzed by on her moving chair.

Leaving the chair by the doorway to the department, Hermione asked Marcus if she needed to change clothes for their outing, as she had no clue where they were going. He looked at the sensible skirt and oxford blouse, tweed blazer, and black pumps she had on and said, "Yes, I'm afraid you do. We'll stop by your flat first."

"Where are we going?" They started down the hallway toward the lifts. Marcus smiled but didn't answer.

Once they were in front of the lifts she asked, "What sort of clothes do I need to change into?"

He smiled wider.

"Marcus," she admonished, "at least tell me, are we going somewhere local?"

He almost laughed.

"Marcus Flint tell me this instant where we're going, or I might not go!" she threatened.

They entered the lifts when the doors opened. There were so many people on it that they both almost didn't fit. He let her walk in first, and then he followed. Shouldering his way toward the back, he took her hand. He stood taller than everyone else in the lift, and she was perhaps a bit shorter than most of the other women. He liked the fact that she fit nicely against his side.

In a brazen move, he was about to place his arm around her shoulders when the lift opened and more people entered, jostling all those already inside. He heard Hermione beside him say a small, "Ouch."

Looking down at her, he asked, "What happened?"

"Someone stepped on my toes," she said in a soft voice. That was all the encouragement he needed. He placed his arm around her and tucked her neatly and completely against his side. No one stepped on the toes of his Hermione. No one.

The feeling of overwhelming satisfaction came over him in waves at that small action. He felt a tingling that started at his head and went to his toes. Her body was so soft and warm and it felt right being held close to his. He had to swallow hard and tap down feelings of desire, since they were in a crowded lift at the Ministry of Magic. Still, this was what it would feel like to hold her, perhaps after sex, or if she was crying because she was sad or upset, or maybe just because he simply wanted to hold her.

Hermione's mouth felt dry and she had a funny, numb feeling in her jaw, chest and arms. Marcus was holding her so tightly, so sweetly, and it made her feel lightheaded and besieged with all sorts of emotions and needs. She imagined what it would be like to have him hold her after sex, or while dancing, or just because she wanted to be held. Looking up at him, she noticed he was looking down at her.

There was a definite exchange of emotion in their mutual stares.

When the lift doors opened to the main floor, he let his arm fall away from her shoulders, but just as easily, he reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. She had to close her eyes for a moment, to recover.

When they exited the lifts, she looked up at him. What was he thinking right now? Was he feeling the same things she was feeling? To take her mind off her warring emotions she asked again, "Where are we going this afternoon?"

"Well," he said softly, pulling her into an embrace that shocked her, his arms holding her tightly, his hand clenched together at the small of her back. Being in his arms brought her devastating joy. Her hands came up to his chest when he spoke softly in her ear, "You took me for a hike yesterday, so I'm returning the favour today."

The lift doors closed behind them and they walked, hand-in-hand, toward the Floos.

By this time there was only one person left in the lifts, so he was the only one who saw their exchange. That person was a very angry Draco Malfoy.

* * *

_A/N: I think I might have to clarify something on this site. This story is not a Dramione. I'm very sorry if everyone feels misled. On Granger Enchanted, it's obvious that it's not a Dramione by the banner and a story poster that I made and posted with chapter two. Since we can't post banners or story posters here, it wasn't obvious on this site. I hope that doesn't mean everyone will leave this story, but if you do, I understand. You can go to my Author's page here and see the banner and poster links. Thanks._


	9. Chapter 9

_**All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling **_

**Chapter 9 - A Chapter Chock full of Sunshine and Butterflies… (Cough, Cough) and a Big Surprise at the End**

Hiking. Marcus Flint was planning to take Hermione Granger hiking. In the woods. In the middle of winter. In Great Britain.

To say that she was slightly bewildered and just a bit disappointed would have been an understatement, but when he took her hand and led her to the Floo and announced their destination as he tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace, she didn't see how their destination had anything at all to do with hiking.

When they left the Ministry to go to her flat, he told her to dress in something warm. She came out of her bedroom in a pair of brown wool trousers, a cream coloured, angora jumper, with a multi-coloured shawl wrapped 'just so' around her shoulders. Finishing her ensemble with brown high-heeled boots and clutching her tweed jacket in one hand, she thought she looked good.

Imagine her shock when he frowned at her. HE. FROWN. AT. HER.

So she frowned back.

Understanding why she was frowning, he smiled and said, "While you look beautiful, Hermione, I should have clarified. Would you mind if I went into your bedroom and looked inside your closet for something appropriate?"

"Can't you just tell me where we're going?" she huffed, still miffed.

"No." He walked past her, as if he owned the place, into her bedroom. Sitting on her bed was a black cat with yellow eyes, and beside her, lying on its side, was a long-haired white cat with blue eyes. He took a step back and with surprise asked, "You have cats?"

"Yes," she said, adding, "obviously." She walked over to the cats, rubbed the black cat's ears and stroked the white cat down its side. "This is Peppermint," she explained, pointing toward the black cat, "and Sultan," pointing toward the white. "But I affectionately call them Salt and Pepper."

Marcus actually took a step backwards. "I hate cats." The phrase came out of his mouth before he knew it. The look on Hermione's face was one of incensed horror. "I mean, I don't hate them, I just have never really liked them. I think they're aloof and snooty and I can't see that they give people affection. You can't play with them, or take walks with them. What's the use of having a pet like that? I've always had dogs growing up. German shepherds to be precise."

"You have a dog?" she asked. Why was this the first he had mentioned that fact? "I have to admit, I'm slightly afraid of dogs, so I've never really liked them."

"You are? Why?" he inquired.

"I don't know. They seem intimidating, I guess. I suppose I don't like dogs for the same reason you don't like cats," she said, chagrined. "And for your information, my cats DO show me affection, and I can play with them, and they are very attentive to my wants and needs. Now, tell me what I should wear to this secret outing, you cat hater you."

Marcus could tell that he had offended her. He tried to remain calm, though inside he was scrambling for something appropriate to say. So far, their brief courtship had progressed nicely, and he felt as if he had just taken a giant leap backward, merely by being honest with her about his feeling for cats. If his honesty regarding his hatred of cats had upset her, how would she react if he were honest with her regarding how they became betrothed?

He was resolved to right at least this wrong. He moved toward her, slowly, despite his strong impulse to take her into his arms and ravish her until dawn, he merely leaned down, with his arms still at his sides, and he kissed her cheek. Standing erect, the warmth of her body lingering near his, he said, "I didn't mean to malign your cats. I'm certain they're wonderful, and I know you love them, so I'll come to love them, as will Fritz, my German shepherd. I was merely being honest with you about my feelings on cats, in general."

She could hardly fault him for being honest. Honesty was something she valued very highly. He looked so troubled, thinking that he had distressed her. She wanted to protect him from such feelings. She felt his happiness was reliant on her. When had THAT happened? Was she truly falling in love with him?

With tenderness, she placed her hand on his face. He turned his face toward her hand, his hand coming up to cup hers, and then he kissed her palm. She said, "I'm sorry I overreacted. Ron always hated my cats, too, and even though he knew that it distressed me when he would speak ill of them, he didn't care. And I do appreciate your honesty. Honesty is something that I hold sacred. I think it's one of the most imperative ingredients to a flourishing relationship, and apparently you agree."

His head began to swim. He had started this conversation regarding honesty, and now she had revealed that honesty was one of the most important things to her, yet their whole relationship was built on a lie. Could a relationship built on a lie withstand the test of time? He didn't know, nor did he care to find out.

"Is anything wrong, Marcus?" She looked at him, concerned, which only deepened his guilt.

He answered, "I was just trying to picture my dog with your cats. He can barely stand other people, but we'll work it out somehow." Marcus walked over to the bed, bent at the waist, and formally announced to the cats, "Nice to make your acquaintance, Pepper and Salt."

After helping Hermione pick out appropriate outdoor gear…jeans with long-underwear underneath, a heavy cable-knit jumper, a woolen jacket, a down vest to go on top, a hat, scarf and gloves, and galoshes for her feet, he left the bedroom for her to dress.

He walked around her living room, staring at everything, examining every nook and cranny, trying to get an idea of what type of woman Hermione really was. Her flat was warm and inviting, much like she was. She had a good sense of style. The apartment was small, but homey. Comfortable. He picked up a few pictures, examined them, and did the same with a few books. The last book he picked up was a book of poems, entitled, 'Selected Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning'. He opened the book to a page where the corner had been turned down, to a poem called 'Question and Answer'.

Without conscience forethought, he read aloud:

_"Love you seek for, presupposes,  
Summer heat and sunny glow.  
Tell me, do you find moss-roses  
Budding, blooming in the snow?  
Snow might kill the rose tree's root –  
Shake it quickly from your foot,  
Lest it harm you as you go._

From the ivy where is dapples,  
A gray ruin, stone by stone –  
Do you look for grapes or apples,  
Or for sad green leaves alone?  
Pluck the leaves off, two or three –  
Keep them for morality,  
When you shall be safe and gone."

Hermione stepped out of her bedroom at the same moment that he finished the second verse. Without noticing her, he placed the book back on the end table. Hermione asked, "Did you like that poem?"

Marcus shrugged and admitted, "I'm not sure I know what it meant."

She smiled, pulled her hat off her head, walked to where he stood, and picked up the book again. Putting her hat, scarf and gloves on the couch, along with her down vest and jacket, she stood beside him. She was so close that her hair tickled his nose. She opened the book to the poem. Her elbow was against his stomach. She read the poem again, her soft lilting voice mesmerizing him. When she was done, she offered, "It's all about symbolism. Also, with poetry, it can mean almost whatever you want it to mean or nothing at all. Shall I tell you what this means to me?"

He could only nod. She took his hand, with the book tucked under her arm, and pushed him to sit on the couch. Sitting very closely to him, since her outwear took up the other end, she opened the book again, propping the book on his knee.

She began. "The first verse…_Love you seek for, presupposes_…means to me that the love a person seeks is either a love that is taken for granted, or a love that is assumed to be a certain way. The next few verses…_summer heat and sunny glow, moss-roses, budding blooming in the snow…_means that we often think of love as being all roses and butterflies. We assume its all happiness and sweet, but the next verse…_snow might kill the rose tree's root, shake it quickly from your foot, lest it harm you as you go_…means that the love you assume is one way may not be, and you shouldn't take it for granted. You also shouldn't wear 'rose coloured' glasses, because often time love isn't what it appears. Do you get it now?"

He understood. He also understood that the closeness of her, combined with her scent, her touch, her voice, was flaming a fire deep in his heart. More than desire, more than love. He couldn't even begin to describe it. His hand went up and down her back, stroking, caressing. He didn't want to examine the rest of the poem. He only wanted to examine her, completely, every inch of her.

Although her explanation of that poem was right on the mark. He assumed love would be one way, when it was really another. He didn't intend to ever take the way he felt for her for grant. He resolved to tell her the truth, and soon. He didn't want anything 'false' to stand between the 'truth' of his intention, which was simple – he loved her.

With his hand still on her back, stroking over the heavy jumper and her face turned toward his, her hand on the book on his lap, he decided to stake his claim. He pushed the book to the floor and pulled her over to sit upon his lap. She came willingly. She turned in his arms so that she faced him. Desire spiked in her as his lips came down to hers and they kissed with a hunger, fervor and a passion that had been kept at bay for days. Her mouth was sweet and moist. Her lips were soft as a rose petal. Maybe love wasn't roses and sweetness, but her mouth was.

She placed her hands around his neck, and then into his thick, dark hair. She moaned into his mouth as his lips pulled and sucked at hers. Moving from her mouth, he rained a trail of kisses across her cheek and eyes and neck. She arched upwards, and leaned her head back, to grant him better access.

He kissed the hollow at the base of her neck, and then moved upward to the space between her collarbone and her ear. His hands moved down her arms, to her waist and hips and then even her jeans covered legs.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt such an exquisite 'want'. The sensations that his kisses evoked in her surprised her. She knew she was beginning to care for this man, and even desire him, but she didn't know to what extent until now.

He slid his hand up her hip, holding it, before he moved it under the hem of her sweater. When skin touched skin she arched her back again. His mouth went from her neck back to her mouth as his fingertips moved lightly over the smooth skin of her stomach. His mouth still on hers, tantalizing her, bringing her to a peak, his hand found her bra covered breast and he cupped one mound lightly. Impulsively, he rubbed his thumb over the tip, and she moved her hips, her bottom pressing against his groin.

Clutching at his shoulders, she knew it was too soon, and she knew they should stop, but she didn't want to. She reveled in the feel of his hand on her breast, mouth teasing hers, their tongues dancing together. When he hooked his fingers inside the top lace of her bra, she pushed against his shoulders.

It was just too soon.

And he knew it, too. He brought his hand out from under her sweater and pushed on her back, bringing her body to his in a tight embrace. He murmured her name several times, his lips in her hair. She continued to clutch his shoulders. Finally, he eased her off his lap. He moved his large hands up and down his thighs, itching to take her body and pull it next to his again.

She moved slightly away from him, bent down, and picked up the book. She placed it on the table and said, "I guess we don't need to go over the second verse. I think you showed a general understanding of the poem."

He looked over at her dazed, and then he laughed. Hard. He placed his head on the back of the sofa, stared up at the ceiling, and laughed.

She joined him.

Without looking at her he said, "Wasn't Elizabeth Barrett Browning the Muggle poet that wrote that one about, 'How do I love thee, let me count the ways'?"

Surprised, Hermione gazed at him. He slowly stared back at her, his head still resting on the back of the sofa. With a tenderness that almost brought him to tears, she reach over, placed her fingers in his dark hair, and while playing with his hair she recited the entire poem word for word. _"How do I love thee, let me count the ways…"  
_  
She began, but he didn't hear the words. He watched her instead. He watched her lips move slowly, seductively. He marveled at the brightness of her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the way her body turned toward his, the movement of her hands. She finished, _"I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life. And if God chooses, I shall love thee better after death_."

He loved her, and he had lied to her, and now he had to fix it all, because there was no way he was going to lose her. No way.

He stood so abruptly that Hermione was a bit confused at first. What was wrong? She knew that he wasn't the type to like poetry, but why was he acting so strangely? He walked around her flat, finally stopping to stare out of the window. Without looking at her he said, "You best put your things back on, so we can get started with our date."

Yes, he would tell her. Just not today.

He hadn't even realized that she was standing behind him until he felt her hand upon his arm. He looked down into her liquid, amber coloured eyes as she asked, "Where are we going again?"

He couldn't help but to smile at her. "I never told you," he reminded her. "But I shall. I'm taking you hiking."

"Hiking? In January? In case you haven't noticed, it's cold outside. We're in England, you know." She felt a bit disappointed at the news that he was taking her hiking. It wasn't what she expected from a 'third date'.

"Yes, I know," he said, the urge to touch her strong. Instead, he straightened the hat on her head. "But we're going someplace a bit special, and I'm sure you'll forget all about the cold once we're there."

"Where is this special place?" she asked, reaching out for his hand.

He loved that she took the initiative and reached for his hand before he could reach for hers. He also loved the feel of holding her hand. He loved…everything about her. He loved her.

He went over to her fireplace, still holding her hand, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and with a mischievous grin he said, "Malfoy Manor," just as an eruption of blue flames licked their faces and he pulled her into the Floo.


	10. Chapter 10

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 10 - Welcome to the Madhouse that Malfoys like to call Home**

Hermione stumbled out of the Floo right behind Marcus. She looked around and felt slightly relieved. She was terribly afraid of arriving at a part of Malfoy Manor where there might be a Malfoy or two. Marcus engaged her with another wide smile and said, "This way, Hermione."

He walked toward a set of doors, and she followed. They walked down a long, abandoned looking hallway. This had to be an unused section of the house, insomuch that there weren't any auspicious pieces of furniture, or artwork, or…well…Malfoys.

She saw several little house elves scramble around, passing them with their large heads down, their eyes averted. One said hello to Marcus, very formally, with a, "Hello Mr. Marcus Flint, Sir. Are you here to take a hike in the enchanted forest, sir?"

"Yes, and afterwards, we'd like dinner, if you could handle that," Marcus responded. The little elf nodded, his large ears flopping back and forth. "Thank you, Dinky."

Marcus took Hermione's hand and continued to drag her down the long corridors. They walked by the large Manor's kitchens. There were at least ten to twelve elves inside. They passed by a room where two elves were making elaborate floral arrangements. Another room had a small male elf shining shoes.

Finally, Hermione skidded to a stop, forcing Marcus to stop as well. "Where are we exactly?" she asked.

"The servant's wing of the Manor," Marcus explained. "The lowest level, if you don't count the dungeons," he regaled.

"Ah, the dungeons, I recall those," she observed slowly. She turned in a circle. "I had no clue the Malfoys had so many house elves. I guess I only ever thought of Dobby."

"What? You thought the Malfoys only had one elf? How else could a Manor this size run if it didn't utilize a large staff, Hermione?" Marcus asked.

"Staff?" she regarded. "A staff denotes pay, Marcus. These elves, while they look as if they are treated somewhat better than Dobby used to be treated, don't exactly look as if they're paid, if they were, I'm sure they would be wearing clothing, instead of napkins and pillowcases."

"Why would the Malfoys pay their elves?" Marcus asked sincerely.

Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "Because otherwise, it's slavery, Marcus. Plain and simple."

"The purpose of elves is to work for wizards," Marcus explained dryly.

"The purpose of elves is to work for wizards?" she repeated, incredulously. He nodded, thinking that perhaps she was repeating his sentence because she hadn't heard currently. Then he saw that her hands were on her hips, her lips were pursed tightly together, and her eyes narrowed slits.

He was familiar with_ this_ Hermione. This Hermione was a bit of a shrew. This Hermione had an argument for everything, and wouldn't stop unless she proved she was right. This was the Hermione that he feared would appear if he told her the truth about switching names for the marriage edict. Deciding that he wasn't up for arguing today, he decided to placate her by saying, "They aren't my elves, Hermione."

"That's an asinine answer. Do you own house elves, Marcus Flint?" She tapped her booted foot and waited for an answer.

He let out a long breath. "Did you see one at my house?" He was avoiding her question.

Hermione knew he was avoiding her question. She didn't know he was smart enough to evade her like this. She would admire him for it, if it wasn't direct TOWARD her. "Marcus Flint, answer my question! I take it you don't live in the house you're renovating yet, so let me rephrase, in case you misunderstood, because believe me, I haven't misunderstood you in the least – you Mr. Flint, are trying to avoid answering my question! So let me ask it again, plainly! In the place where you presently reside, do you at this very moment have house elves working for you, in the capacity of unpaid labor?"

"No," he answered honestly. "I live in a flat in Muggle London. I don't have house elves living in my flat." She looked as if she didn't believe him, so he added, "However, in the interest of full disclosure, my mother still employees house elves, and they do come and tidy my flat a few times a week." There. He was honest. Being honest with her wasn't that hard. If he could be honest about this, surely he could be honest about switching her name…or…well…maybe not because her face was turning the colour of an over-ripe turnip. Scarlet and puckered. She was angry. At him. And he didn't like it one bit.

"THAT'S THE SAME THING! YOU USE THE POOR LITTLE THINGS FOR SLAVES, MARCUS!" she bellowed.

"Turn it down a notch or two, Granger," Draco said from behind them, actually pushing on her back, causing her to stumble into Marcus, who steadied her readily. "And what do you want him to do, set all his family's elves free? What would the little buggers do then? They're happier serving people! That's their function, just as your function is to irritate everyone around you."

Hermione whipped around and glared at Draco Malfoy, her mouth open and ready for an argument. Marcus shook his head 'no' toward the other man, in an attempt to tell him that he wasn't helping. Before she could say a word to him, Draco asked, "Now, are we all going on our hike or not? The others are waiting and I'd like to get started, and I'm not in the mood to debate pureblood ethics with the likes of someone like you, Granger." Draco walked through a doorway that led outside, leaving Hermione and Marcus alone.

Hermione turned back toward Marcus, appalled. He looked at her, chagrined. "Hermione, I promise, after our date today, you can tell me why you think house elves should be free and I'll listen with an open heart, I promise. And if it truly means that much to you, I'll never use a house elf at my flat again." He meant every word.

Her face softened. "You promise?" she pressed.

He crossed his heart with his index finger.

Draco leaned his head back in the doorway and said, "You sound as if you're the slave, Marcus. You're already doing her bidding. You're the man. Do what you want, when you want, and if the little woman doesn't like it, tell her to take a real hike."

Again, Hermione whipped around toward the blonde man in question and she shouted, "Why are you here!"

"It's my bloody house!" he roared back. He was trying to get Hermione angry at Marcus, not at him, but he wasn't succeeding, so he held up his hands, as a truce, and said, "Fine, fine, I'll go on outside and you can carve Marcus into your little puppet in private, or perhaps you would prefer whipping him." He made a whipping noise with his mouth, and pantomimed a whipping action with his hands, then laughed as he walked out a set of glass doors that led to a lower level terrace.

Hermione inhaled sharply and said, "That man exasperated me to no end! Please tell me he isn't the only one going with us. Who else is going on our _date_ with us?" She emphasized that word 'date' with a roll of her eyes. "I don't know if I can stand an afternoon of Malfoy."

"It's his property, Hermione," Marcus regaled with a laugh, "and it's the first time he's meeting with his future wife, or so Theo tells me. Theo will be there, without his intended, and Zabini will be there without the Weasley girl, so you and Anna will be the only females in attendance, I believe. Adrian is coming later. We make this trek once a month. The Malfoy's land has the only enchanted forest in the United Kingdom, after Hogwarts. It's beautiful, and I wanted you to see it, but we won't spend much time with Malfoy, I promise."

He held out his hand to her.

"I have to tell you something first," she said sheepishly, placing her hand in his.

"Yes, I know - house elves shouldn't be slaves and I'm a big bad man for using them, but seriously, I'm a bit of a slob so if they don't come tidy up my flat, you might have to dig me out once in a while," he mocked condescendingly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. She cocked her head to the side and glared at him. He laughed and said, "And I meant that as a joke. You probably wanted to tell me that you're not much of an outdoor type."

"While that's true, that's not what I was about to say. It's just, I did have enough of camping and hiking the year Harry, Ron and I were on the run to last a lifetime," she said softly.

He licked his dry lips and regarded that sentence for several long moments. He hadn't thought of that. He had only thought that she was the type to be more comfortable inside with a good book, not that being in a forest and hiking, might bring up bad memories for her. "If you'd rather, we can do something else." He stroked her cheek lightly with his free hand. "Anything you want. We don't have to do this."

"No, I want to see the type of things that you enjoy. I might not enjoy them, but I want to share things with you, and learn to appreciate the things that you appreciate," she said truthfully. "What I wanted to say was, I'm not in the best of shape, unfortunately, in fact, I'm rather clumsy, so don't expect too much from me. In fact, I'm liable to fall down a hill or something, so you might have to save me if I do.""

He smiled and winked at her. "Sure, I'll save you, or at the very least, get Malfoy to do it, and when it comes to gutting the fish and killing the bears, I'll do that as well. All you have to do is cook them, alright?"

"What?"

"A joke, Hermione," he teased. He placed his arm around her shoulders and said, "Come on. I won't make you hike farther than you're able, and I won't let you fall off any cliffs, I promise. I think you'll really enjoy this."

They made their way to the others, who stood at the mouth of the forest. Zabini was there, as was Nott. A pretty, blonde woman stood off to the side. No one was speaking to her, or offering her any directions. Malfoy stood next to the men, and they were all laughing and talking amongst themselves. Hermione walked right up to the blonde-haired woman and held out her hand. "Since its apparent Malfoy isn't about to introduce us, allow me, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Everyone knows that, Granger," Draco said discourteously. "Besides, you both have mouths. You can speak to each other if you want."

Hermione sneered at him as the other woman reached for her hand, smiled, and said, "Hello, Anna McAllister. I've seen you at the Ministry. I work there, too, in the Department of Muggle Affairs. My father was a Muggle and my mother a half-blood."

"I don't recall that you went to school with us," Hermione stated.

"Oh no, I was educated at Beauxbatons Academy. My mother is French."

"Malfoy's ancestors are French, aren't they Malfoy?" Hermione offered.

"I'm British, Granger. The name is merely a French holdout, from long ago," Draco countered. "Now are we going to start our hike or not?"

Hermione frowned at Draco's surly mood and turned back to Anna. "I'm not the best outdoor person."

"Really? I enjoy the outdoors immensely," Anna revealed.

Hermione laughed and said, "I'm terribly clumsy, but Marcus has promised not to let me fall off any cliffs or anything."

"More's the pity, Granger won't be falling off cliffs, now, shall we leave?" Draco huffed and then he stormed down a path, leaving Anna alone to fend for herself. Hermione thought Draco was being an arse. He hadn't even said one word to the woman, nor did he try to make the introductions when they first arrived, or anything! Hermione was about to suggest that Anna walk with her, when the other woman stepped into line after Malfoy, followed by Theo and then Blaise. Hermione started to follow Blaise, but felt Marcus' hand on her arm.

"We're going a different way," Marcus proposed. "Follow me." He walked off without a backwards glance. Hermione watched as Marcus started down a different trail, feeling torn. She wanted to spend some time alone with him, and she really didn't want to spend any time with the other men, but for some reason, she hated leaving the other woman alone with them. She felt Malfoy's indifference to the woman, and if this woman was supposedly Malfoy's perfect match, then he should at least want to spend some time alone with her, or want to speak with her, or something. Hermione felt personally responsible for the other woman's discomfort, even though she told herself that was ridiculous.

She turned and followed Marcus, running to catch up with him, as each of his strides were the same as two of hers. When she caught up with him, she said, "Why is Malfoy acting like such an arse toward his intended bride?"

Marcus stopped walking for a moment. "You noticed, huh? Theo is the one that invited her. He's worked on a few projects with her and he thinks highly of her. He hates that Malfoy's been avoiding her, so he invited her without Malfoy's permission. Malfoy was peeved, to say the least. He says he has no intention of marry the woman, let alone entertaining her in his home. Theo shouldn't have taken it upon himself to invite her."

He started walking again. Hermione didn't. When Marcus noticed that Hermione wasn't following he stopped and turned back around. "Why is Draco so reluctant to get to know her? Why is he causing so much trouble, wanting to know my formula, hiring solicitors, and all? It's unseemly. She's a beautiful woman, and she seems so nice."

Marcus didn't want to talk about the attributes of Anna McAllister, or the 'arse-ness' of Draco Malfoy, with Hermione Granger. He already felt guilty enough. He nodded and said, "Theo claims she's great, funny, smart, and she's very pretty. As to Malfoy, perhaps he merely doesn't like the new law in general. Maybe he wants to marry a pureblood. Goodness knows that's what's been expected of most of us, most of our lives."

They began walking again. The forest seemed quiet and still. The only sound was the rustling of dead leaves and debris that littered the path where their feet met the frozen earth. Hermione almost stumbled over a tree root, and Marcus reached out quickly and took her arm. He held onto her upper arm, steadying her, as well as offering her continual support.

After many minutes of quiet, Hermione asked, "Were you expected to marry a pureblood?"

"It was expected, sure," he returned. He stopped her and pointed toward a frozen creek that went parallel to their path. It looked like a frozen mirror. Hermione peered down in it, as did Marcus. They stared at each other's reflections. He observed, "Your nose is red."

"And your cheeks," she came back with. She turned toward him. "Are your parents upset with the law and how it turned out? Are they upset that you didn't get at least a half blood?"

"My father's dead," he answered plainly.

"I suppose I knew that, I'm sorry I forgot." His father wasn't a Death Eater, like Malfoy's father, but he was killed during the Battle of Hogwarts all those years ago. She had forgotten, and he had never mentioned his father, so it slipped her mind. Sensing her ill ease, he pulled on one of her long curls.

"It was a long time ago. He picked a wrong side during a crazy time, and it cost him his life. Don't worry about it." He let her hair fall from his fingers and land upon her shoulder. "As to whether I got a half blood or a Muggle-born, I don't think it mattered…to me, I mean."

She squinted up toward him, the noonday sun bright in the sky, even under the canopy of trees in the forest. She said, "You never speak of your mother either. I know we're going to meet her Sunday. What are her feelings on the whole Marriage Edict?"

Marcus turned from her. Pushing his booted foot down on the ice of the creek bed until the edges cracked, he reached for her hand. He held her hand as the sound of the cracking ice reverberated loudly in the silence of the woods. He took a steady, solid breath and then said, "I haven't told her of the law yet." He dropped her hand and took a step farther out over the ice.

"Does she know about me, in any way?" Hermione placed a gloved hand on his shoulder as she followed him. He ventured yet another step out on the icy creek, the ice cracking a bit more.

"No," he said succinctly. He turned toward her quickly, and grasped her hand again.

"Why?" She followed him, looking down at her feet, the ice already having given away under his weight, so it didn't crack further under hers.

He slid toward the middle, his free arm out to his side. He looked toward her and said, "Stay there until I'm sure it will withstand my weight." He stood motionless, his arm outstretched, his hand holding hers, for a solid ten seconds. Finally, facing her, he said, "You'll understand why I haven't told her when you meet her Sunday, okay?"

She wanted to tell him, "No," that wasn't okay, but he looked so lost and forlorn suddenly, so she nodded and said, "Whatever you'd like, as long as you're not ashamed of me, or embarrassed by the match, as Malfoy seems to be with his."

He laughed. "Oh, Hermione. That's absurd. If you only knew. I couldn't be happier with the match if I had picked you for myself," he revealed. He looked down at his feet. How he wanted to be truthful with her. He wanted to tell her everything, but he felt it wasn't the right time. Just like the fragile piece of ice in which he stood, he felt their relationship wasn't strong enough to withstand the truth…not yet…maybe not ever.

"Shall I join you in the middle of the ice, or what?" she asked from the side, their fingertips merely touching.

"Yes, cross over, and we'll pick up the path from here. I want you to see the frozen waterfall. It's magnificent."

"A frozen waterfall?" Hermione asked. He pulled on her hand, pulling her toward him.

"Yes," he smiled, walking to the other side. He held out his hand as she walked carefully toward him. "It has magical properties, and in the winter, like now, it freezes, and the ice turns every colour in the prism, and it's so beautiful."

Now she smiled. She liked that he could appreciate the beauty of nature, and that he wanted to share it with her.

She took his hand again, and she decided not to let go. She wanted to hold his hand the entire time they were on their hike.

He walked carefully across another section of the frozen creek, with her right behind him. Once they were on the other side, they found the frozen waterfall. It was as beautiful as he claimed. They walked under the frozen water. Hermione was in awe. She looked up and said, "This is amazing."

He thought she was amazing, as simple as that sounded.

He showed her many other things. He showed her a lily that bloomed only in that forest, and only in the winter. He showed her a pine tree that had pinecones that looked as if they were made of thin layers of painted glass.

He pointed out plants that as a potion mistress she knew were very rare. She asked if Malfoy would care if she took some samples. Marcus laughed and said, "Who cares if Malfoy cares?" He procured her every sample that she asked for, cutting off stems, plucking off buds, splitting seeds in half. By the end of their hike his jacket pockets was full of samples for her, and she laughed and joked that she should have brought a suitcase.

Questioning him about interesting fauna and animals that they saw, some of which she had only read about, some of which she thought were fables, some she had seen only in the forest at Hogwarts, she was amazed at the amount of knowledge that he showed. Overall, she was mesmerized by the whole experience. They didn't talk of anything personal or abstract. They only discussed the things they heard and saw in the forest, yet she felt she got a better glance into the real heart and soul of Marcus Flint in this one afternoon's hike than she had previously. He was bright, attentive, and he seemed truly at one with nature. She asked him why he didn't work with nature somehow, as perhaps as naturalist, and he seems bashful, saying ruefully, "I merely enjoy being outside. It's nothing I could do for a living. Besides, I work outside with my job, don't I?"

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't the same thing, not at all, but she wouldn't press it. They walked and talked for hours. Finally, he declared that they should join the others for an early dinner. Hermione was reluctant to join the others. She had enjoyed her hike so far, and she had enjoyed being with Marcus. The more time that she spent with him, the more that she felt she was_ meant_ to be with him.

Crossing a deep gully, he took her hand to help her up the incline, stopping on the hillside to show her yet another interesting conifer tree, when she felt all resolve toward him completely melt away to nothingness. Seeing him look so earnest and excited filled her with weakness and desire, that she could hardly stop herself when he straightened up, pointing toward another cove of trees on the opposite side of the ravine. She pulled on his arm, lowering it, stepped toward his chest, placed her hand upon his cheek, cupping it slightly, and raising on her toes, until she found her mouth hovering next to his.

Then she kissed him lightly.

He looked taken aback. He placed his hands on her arms, pushed her slightly away, and asked, "And what do I owe that pleasure?"

"That's a thank you for a lovely hike this afternoon," she whispered.

"What would you have given me if I had given you a wonderful hike, instead of just a lovely one?" he teased, his hands still on her arms.

"Oh, but it was wonderful, Marcus! It was!" Her lips parted again, as his hands went from her shoulders to around her waist. She felt intoxicated by his closeness, his warm breath, his bright eyes, the cold air, the small puff of frost that came from his expelled breath. She felt overwhelmed as she placed her mouth on his again. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to take time to find pleasure in his kiss. She found pleasure in his response. She sensed his urgency as she deepened the kiss, his physical awareness finally enveloping her, almost overpowering her.

A wash of cold wind mixed with new fallen snow descended upon them as quickly, pushing them apart, at the exact moment that she heard Blaise Zabini call Marcus' name. She fell back on her heels, covering her mouth with her hand, in shock and embarrassment at her brazenness. She looked toward the other side of the gully and saw their fellow hikers watching them. He did the same. Stepping back another step, he reached for her, because she didn't notice that she was standing on a slippery side of the small hillside, and just as Marcus waved toward the others and called out a response, her hand slipped off his arm and she careened down the slope, screaming.

Marcus looked down at her in surprise, his hand reaching for nothing but air. He began to run after her, as did Theo and Blaise from the other side. Anna stood on their side, frozen in shock. During it all, Draco cursed, said, "You weren't supposed to let her fall off a cliff!" and then he seemed to disappear.

Hermione continued to scream, falling on her backside, hitting jagged rocks and frozen reeds and shrubs. Finally, she landed in the same frozen creek that they had crossed earlier, only here the ice was thinner, and it broke under her weight, and she went under the icy cold water with a loud SPLASH!

It was dark, cold, and scary. She swallowed a mouthful of water before she bobbed back to the surface. Her ribs hurt from the cold. It felt as if she was being compressed from the inside, and something was cinching her ribs and lungs together. She tried to take another deep breath before she submerged back down into the cold frozen depths of the water. Fear gripped her as she felt herself go back under. She heard Marcus call her name.

Then she felt someone jump in beside her, and push her toward the opening in the ice. Marcus pulled her out. It was only then that she realized it was Draco who had jumped in and saved her. She couldn't process that thought, before she passed out.


	11. Chapter 11

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 11 – Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire, Hang your Nose on a Telephone Wire (I just really wanted to call a Chapter that, sorry.)**

Carrying Hermione in his arms toward the Manor while Theo and Blaise were left to haul Malfoy out of the frozen creek, Marcus had only one thought: He had to tell her the truth.

Other thoughts mulled around his brain, too. Why hadn't he been the one that had saved her? How could he have let her fall down the hillside? Why hadn't he thought to Disapparate into the frozen water? Why hadn't he taken her into his arms and kissed her senseless when she kissed him?

All these thoughts came in a deluge, but only after that one primary thought took root, which was – He had to tell her the truth, and today.

Truly, he was in awe as they stood on the icy slope of the ravine, when she took the initiate and kissed him. He was in further wonder when she did it again. Then his awe turned to shock when her arms flayed and her eyes widened and she slipped down the hillside. His shock turned to fear when she fell on her backside and continued to fall at an alarming speed. His fear turned to terror when she screamed his name!

His terror turned to life altering panic when he heard the splash and when she disappeared under the frozen ice. Only then did his feet catch up with his brain that he needed to act. By that time, Theo and Blaise had also started to run toward the frozen creek bed. Draco, who yelled at Marcus that he wasn't supposed to let her fall, Apparated directly _into_ the creek to save her.

Why couldn't he have thought of that? He didn't begrudge that the other man had saved her. He was glad, happy, elated that she was saved. He was only upset that he had been so slow to have done anything. He was the man who always acted so quickly, whose quick reflexes were always heralded as a thing of legend, yet he watched in horror, like a fool, as the woman he loved almost drowned while he stood on the bank and did nothing.

Running with her in his arms, he noticed that her eyes were closed. Her lips, trembling as they were, were turning a dusky shade of blue. Water was dripping off her everywhere. He knew he couldn't Disapparate with her from the enchanted woods into the Manor, so he continued to run as fast as he could. If nothing else, he could run. He could run fast.

He heard footsteps behind him, so he knew the others were close behind. Leaving the enchanted woods, he saw Adrian mosey slowly toward them, and then sensing something wrong, sprinting to a run.

"What is it? What happened to her?" Adrian shouted.

"Creek!" It was all he could muster. Adrian tried to take her from him, but he wouldn't let her go.

Adrian looked behind Marcus and asked, "Did Malfoy fall in, too?" Marcus turned quickly and saw that Theo and Blaise were running along side a dripping wet Malfoy, flanking each of his sides.

"No, he saved her," Marcus said, peeved. "I have to get her inside."

Draco reached them by this time and yelled, "Get her inside, to the guest wing. I'll call for a healer."

Marcus ran inside the house, following an elf, which quickly showed them up a side staircase, down a long back hallway, to a room on the second floor, in a mostly abandoned wing of the massive home. He slipped inside the room and set to work, placing her on the bed, removing her shoes, removing her heavy, water-laden outer gear.

Anna came into the room and closed the door on the other men who stood in the hall. She helped Marcus remove Hermione's clothing, leaving her in only her bra and knickers, and together they placed her under heavy blankets and covers. Hermione was conscious through it all, but cold and helpless.

"I'll get her something warm to drink," Anna suggested as she slid back out the door.

As she slipped out, Malfoy and Adrian pushed their way inside. Marcus was lying on the bed beside her, his hand on her cheek. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

She nodded, but said nary a word. Adrian sat on the other side of the bed and took her hand. He rubbed it in his. "She's getting warmer," he added.

Draco stood in the corner, watching.

"Tell me what happened," Adrian asked, almost in a scold. That was always how it had been with this small group of friends. Adrian and Marcus were the oldest of their assemblage, but Adrian was somehow always the leader, the unofficial boss. The big brother. It was the reason this group of friends were so close, because none of them had brothers. Adrian had a younger sister, ten years younger. Marcus, Draco and Blaise had no brothers or sisters at all, though Blaise had numerous stepbrothers and stepsisters, and Theo only had three older sisters.

Yes, they were brothers, in every sense of the word. They were comrades, they had their petty jealousies, they challenged each other, and they supported each other, no matter what. More than classmates, more than friends, and Adrian was their unofficial leader. Not elected, but by design. They all respected him, referred to him, deemed him their leader through and through. When he talked, they listened. When he asked a question, they answered.

Therefore, when he asked this question, and neither Draco nor Marcus answered right away, Adrian stood and asked again, in a voice that showed he would brook no silence as a response. "I asked what happened to her!"

"He was supposed to make sure she didn't fall off a cliff! It was all she asked of him!" Draco accused, pointing his finger at Marcus.

Marcus looked at Draco, incredulously, and standing from the bed, said, "It wasn't my fault. The slope was slippery. She fell! It was an accident! I didn't push her or anything!"

"You didn't save her either!" Draco charged.

"I hardly had time! You Disapparated into the frozen water before I had a chance, and I'm glad you did! It gave the rest of us time to get down there and pull you both out, because you wouldn't have gotten out otherwise, Malfoy! Did you think of that? Your clothing would have gotten so heavy and wet, and you would have gotten hyperthermia so quickly yourself that you might have died, even if you had managed to push her out! Disapparating into the frozen water wasn't the smartest thing to do!" Marcus bellowed.

Draco pushed from the wall and spat, "Yes and standing on the hillside and watching as she slipped out of sight was ever so much smarter, wasn't it?"

"ENOUGH!" The order came from Adrian, although it was said first, in a feeble, weak voice by Hermione, and only repeated by him. "That's enough! Malfoy, get into some dry clothing. Marcus, stay here with her. I'll go see if the healer has come yet."

Adrian pushed Draco out of the room. Marcus looked down at Hermione, who was staring up at him. He smiled weakly at her. Slowly, he approached the bed, to sit down upon it. He took her hand, bringing it up to his mouth. He placed a kiss on the top. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"I wasn't lying when I said I was clumsy," she joked. "Perhaps next time you'll believe me."

He smiled, leaned down, and kissed her. He used the heel of his hand and pushed her wet tresses from her forehead and away from her jaw line. He rained kissed all over her face. With his cheek next to hers he said, "When I saw you go under water, I froze. I'm so ashamed. I was so scared. I've only just fallen in love, yet the thought that I was going to lose you already filled me with the worst anguish that I've ever known."

She brought a hand up to the back of his head and placed it in his short hair at the nape of his neck. He pulled away slightly so he could stare down at her. "You love me?" she asked.

He nodded in affirmation. "I have for a long time, actually, but I've only now been able to show it."

"I love you, too. I do, really," she said, as if the thought was odd to her, yet she knew she did, or she wouldn't have said it.

He glared down at her and smiled. He kissed her mouth, softly, as if she might break under his touch. Lifting his head, he murmured against her cheek, "I never thought I could even hope that you might love me in return. I thought it would forever be one sided."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat at that admission. It shocked her, and saddened her at the same time. With a trembling voice, she said, "Why would you think that? We're fated to be together. We are each other's perfect matches, remember?"

And that statement brought a maudlin feeling of foreboding over him. Thoughtfully, his hands went back into her wet hair and he threaded his fingers through the damp curls, spreading them, arranging them, over the pillow. The covers were pooled around her waist, leaving her bra covered breasts in his view. He allowed his eyes to take in her form, or what he could see of it, head to chest, to blanket covered toes, and back again.

He wanted this woman, but he wanted to be truthful to her, more. He wanted a life with her built on truths, not lies. She loved him, not because some little test or piece of paper told her she had to…she loved him because she did. She deserved the truth. His guilt was so heavy he felt as if he was choking on it. He was the one drowning. He was drowning on his lies.

He didn't remove his eyes from hers. She cupped his cheek and asked, "What's wrong, Marcus? Please, don't feel guilty."

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Did she know? He was about to confess it all, when she continued, "You couldn't have known I was going to fall in a creek, and I'm alright, really I am. I'm not weak or fragile. I don't even really need a healer. I'll be right as rain in no time." She reached her hand up and stroked his cropped hair. He closed his eyes and reveled in her touch.

He caught his breath, captivated in the feel of her hand stroking his hair, his face, and his shoulders. She was comforting him, and he didn't deserve it, yet he wouldn't turn it away. _'She loves me,'_ he thought with a swell of his chest, pleasure filling every pore.

"Marcus, say something. You're being so quiet," she urged from her place on the bed.

He opened his eyes. He admired this woman more than he could ever show. He longed for her, in every way. He leaned down, his body hovering over hers, his weight on his elbows, his chest pressing against her breasts. His lips went to her face. He brushed feathery soft kisses over her eyes, her forehead, and her nose. She closed her eyes, to better feel the sensation.

Sitting up slightly, to admire her, he placed her face between his hands, leaned down, and grazed his mouth over hers, pressing slightly, urging her mouth open, rubbing his tongue back and forth across her lips, before he touched his tongue to hers. When her zeal equaled his own, and her hands pressed hard against his head, only then did he pull back to stare at her. Only then did he know that before the day was done he was going to tell her the truth.

He brushed his hand back against her forehead again, kissed her once there, before going back to her mouth. She made a sort of cooing sound, which encouraged him. He stroked one hand down her neck, to her shoulder, before cupping one breast. She rose slightly from the bed to meet his hand. He did little more than press his hand against the heavy mound, knowing if he did more, he couldn't stop, and stop he must, because there was a knocking at the door.

He rose from her and with one last kiss to her cheek, he said, "I'll wait outside while you see the healer. I have something important to tell you."

Before she could respond, Anna walked in with a little old man and said, "The healer is here to see her."

"I'll be right outside," Marcus told her. He brushed his knuckles down her cheek, to her throat. She held onto his hand until she was forced to let it go, because he was almost to the door. He walked out the door, didn't look back, and once in the hallway, he slipped to the floor by the door, hung his head, and sighed.

Draco started back toward the guest wing, having changed quickly into dry clothes. Toweling his blond hair, he almost ran right into Adrian, having not seen him as he barreled his way toward Hermione's room.

"Is the healer here?" Draco barked.

"In with her now," Adrian commented.

"Stupid bastard," Draco remarked, throwing the towel on the floor in the hallway.

"The healer?" Adrian asked.

Draco shook his head, with a funny look on his face. "No, Marcus Flint. He's a stupid bastard, who couldn't even keep one little slip of a woman safe in the enchanted woods!"

"My goodness, Malfoy, I just spoke with Theo. It was an accident. She slipped," Adrian reprimanded. "Stop being so hard on Marcus. You're jealous, that's all."

Draco sneered and said, "You're damn right I'm jealous!"

"You wanted her for yourself," Adrian said knowingly.

"She should have been mine!" Draco leaned against a wall, then in frustration threw himself away from the same wall and kicked a vase that flanked the other wall.

Adrian shook his head and said, "Sometimes things work out differently than we want."

"You don't understand!" Draco hissed in a loud whisper. "She was meant for me!"

"Why?" Adrian asked. "You don't have that much in common with her. The truth is they're much better suited. I think it's worked out for the best."

"What would you know? I'm telling you that she was supposed to be with me, and I don't know how it ended up that she's with him, but by all that's evil, I'll get this law overturned and right everything!" Draco spat as he turned back down the hall. He had just reached the turn that would lead to the guest wing when he felt Adrian's hand on his arm. Adrian turned him around.

"Draco, what do you know?" Adrian asked carefully, each word pronounced cautiously.

Draco rubbed both eyes with his fists and he sat right on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. Adrian slid down the wall to sit beside him. With his arms on his knees and his head hung low, Draco said, "I always knew from the start that I should have gotten Granger. I'm the smartest of our group, I'm the richest, I'm the most educated, cultured, and I'm the worldliest."

"And you're the most humble," Adrian said with a chuckle.

Draco looked at his friend, laughed in return, and said, "Yeah, that too. The thing is, I also the one that is most in need of saving. I was an actual Death Eater, and none of you can say the same. My father was the Dark Lord's right hand man. My aunt was his closest confidant. If anyone needs to redeem himself by marrying one third of the golden trio, the renown most famous mudblood of them all, it should be me."

Adrian placed a hand on Draco's arm and gave it a light squeeze. "You have nothing to prove. You don't need to redeem yourself. You didn't take the mark by your own accord, and you aren't responsible for the actions of your family. Also, I hate to keep reminding you of this, because I've been telling you this since you were a kid, but you can't will things to go to your favour, Malfoy. You can't just say…hey, I'm more deserving, or in this case, least deserving, so I need the most redemption, ergo, Hermione Granger should be mine. Things don't work that way. Besides, you haven't once spoken of your feelings for the woman."

Adrian continued, "You don't love her, and Marcus does." When Draco started to protest, Adrian added, "Oh, I know you admire her. You like that she challenges your mind. You love to parry and jab at her, and you love that she gives as good as she gets. You love that she's smart and you can hold a halfway decent conversation with her. You might even desire her sexually, but you don't love her. You don't, and he does."

"You did this, didn't you?" Draco asked steadily. He stood from the floor, as did Adrian. "You changed the results so that Marcus would have her, and not me."

Adrian shook his head no, lying, and he said, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I didn't have access to the results."

"Yes you did, as did I, didn't I?" Draco asked. "The tests were run at my lab, at Malfoy Industries, because the Ministry couldn't handle that much work in that short of a time."

Adrian pushed Draco up against the wall and held him there with one hand. "What did you do?"

Draco brushed Adrian's hand away. "The bloody test didn't work! Granger's formula was flawed! I don't know how you conducted your double blind studies, or whatever the hell you did, but when we tried to test it, it didn't work! We got different results each time!"

Adrian looked shocked. "You weren't meant to test it! You were only meant to run the damn test once!"

"Yes, well, a lot of damn good that would have done, since the bloody test didn't work!" Draco sneered.

Adrian looked pained. He paced around the hallway and said, "I know, I know. The test didn't work! I told the Minister that! He didn't care! They were going to pass the law anyway, and pair people up at random, so he said to go ahead with the tests, and that at least people would think they were with paired their perfect match. I gave the blood tests to your lab and told them to run the test, knowing from the start that it didn't matter, because the test didn't really work. It was nothing more than a crapshoot, to quote a Muggle term."

Draco nodded. "And I knew that, too, after running the tests a few times, so I played around with the formula a bit, and I was able to at least match people up with others of similar personality traits. It still wasn't a perfect match, but it was close. It narrowed most of the matches down to four or five people."

"What did you do then?" Adrian asked.

"The same as you were going to do, or should I say, more or less what you instructed of me, but as least people was going to get a closer match than before. Not a perfect match, but a close match. When I got to my own name, Granger was one of five people picked for me, along with Astoria Greengrass, Ginny Weasley, Davina Graves, Sheila Walters and oddly enough, Anna McAllister. Ginny Weasley was out of the question, as was Astoria, because they were purebloods. I didn't know the other women."

"So of the five, you picked Granger for yourself," Adrian concluded.

Draco pulled at the material of his wool jumper and nodded. Then he looked up, with no repentance, and asked, "Wouldn't you? What I want to know is how did it get changed to Marcus Flint's name?"

Marcus Flint stood at the end of the hallway, listening. He marched toward Malfoy and said, "I think I can explain."


	12. Chapter 12

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 12 – Snippets Here, Snippets There, Snippets of the Story Everywhere**

"So it's agreed?" Theo spoke up. The other men looked at him. Two nodded, one grunted, and the other laughed. Theo was never the voice of reason, or the voice of authority in this little group of friends, but he decided to take charge when he walked down the hallway earlier and saw two of his friends close to fisticuffs, and one on the floor sporting a fat lip.

He decided to repeat his question. "Gentlemen, seriously, are we agreed to the course of action? If not, speak now."

Adrian nodded, bringing his hand down from his swollen lip, and said, "On Monday morning, I'll go to the Minister and tell him that the envelopes were tampered with, but I'll act as if I don't know by whom. I'll merely state that I got word that was the case. I'll also tell him again that since the tests were flawed from the beginning, and that since Malfoy is aware of this, that the Marriage Edict should be eradicated."

Draco nodded as Adrian spoke and sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the top of the table where they sat. The five men sat around a small round table in a sitting room off Draco's private wing at Malfoy Manor. This was the table where they usually played poker, or talked over a good firewhiskey. Today, they sat around this table and they were deciding how they would change a law, plus make sure three of them didn't face jail time.

Draco said, "And while Adrian is doing that, I'll go to the press. I'll go to the Daily Prophet, as well as to the paper owned by my family. I'll make it clear that we did the testing for the Marriage Edict and that it was flawed. It didn't work, or in other words, it was inconclusive. I'll tell them that we felt pressure from the Ministry to go ahead and match up names whether the participants were perfect matches for each other or not. I'll also whine about the fact that some purebloods still got matched up with purebloods, while others didn't, so the law didn't really make any sense at all."

"Furthermore, I'll cry foul to the press regarding the fact that we are supposed to be living in a free society, and that this law is something that would have been enacted if the Dark Lord had taken over, but since Potty the Great took care of that threat for us, we should no longer have things like who we are to marriage, blood for blood sake, and all that shite, dictated to us."

Blaise laughed again and said, "The press loves whenever anyone mentions Potter and how he saved our world. If you mention him, in connection with Voldie, that would be even better. Do that, Malfoy. Do that."

Blaise added, "I'll go to the club in the morning and start some gossip regarding the same. I'll tell as many people who will listen that that is the reason Malfoy wants to overturn the law. I'll make it clear, to anyone who will listen to me, and let's face it, everyone listens to me, that he tried to get the Ministry to overturn it when his lab found out it was flawed, but they wouldn't budge, so he felt the need to follow through legally."

"Because I'm such a selfless person and I always think of others before I think of myself. Everything for my fellow man, and all that crap," Draco butted in with a smirk. "I'm a bloody humanitarian, I am."

Two of the men around the table laughed loudly at that misnomer. Blaise smiled and said, "Without a doubt," and then he laughed, too.

Theo turned to Marcus. "Marcus?"

Marcus let out a jagged breath. Without looking at the others he said, "And I'll tell Hermione the truth, or our version of it. I'll tell her tomorrow, on the way to her parents' house, that her test were flawed, the Ministry knew about it, they forced Adrian to follow through anyway, that Draco found out they were flawed, he balked at performing the test when they were questionable…and?" He faltered.

"Then you'll tell her that you aren't her perfect match," Adrian said softly, leaning across the table to place a hand on his arm. "Tell her that you only found out about this today, when Malfoy and I told you the truth. Don't tell her about switching the names, or about Malfoy putting his name in her envelope first. That will do no good at all."

Marcus looked down at his hands. They were flat on the smooth wood of the table. "You all want me to continue to lie to her."

"No," Theo concluded. "Not really, well, I mean, maybe, but it's for the best."

"Exactly," Adrian added, shifting back so that he leaned lazily in his seat. "I know her perhaps better than you do. She'll be heartbroken, torn to shreds, knowing that her tests didn't work. She'll be angry at me, at the Ministry, and perhaps even at Malfoy for not telling her that her tests didn't work. There's no reason for her to be angry with you as well. The law is bound to be overturned when the people get wind of this. She'll be free to pick whom she wants, and if that's you, then we don't want to do anything to hinder that. You said that she told you that she loves you, so there's no reason for us to mess with that."

"You want me to continue to lie to her," Marcus repeated stronger, looking in each friend's eyes. He ended with Draco, who sat next to him.

"Merlin man, buck up and act like the Slytherin that you were," Draco chastised. He paused and then revealed, "We don't want her name vilified, not if we can help it. We don't want anyone to blame her for the botched results, because she'll take the weight of the world on her shoulders if we let her." He stood and looked at his friends and said, "Actually, perhaps we should tell the press that my lab botched the results. Only the Minister needs to know the truth. The fact that we know the truth, and that he knows the truth, will be enough to overturn the law."

Draco began to walk around the small room, ending across the table from Marcus, standing between Theo and Adrian. "Yes, that's better. We'll blackmail the Minister of Magic. We'll tell him that we know the truth, that being that the tests didn't work from the start, but that he didn't care, and he wanted to fool the people into believing otherwise. He'll be denigrated in the press if he doesn't overturn the law. He'll never be re-elected. He might even be prosecuted. That's the better course of action."

Draco stared directly into Marcus' eyes and replied, "We'll tell the Minister the truth, tell the press the lie, and do whatever we can to save Granger from finding out that her tests didn't work. Hell, I'd rather she blame me for everything, than blame herself."

Marcus shook his head no and pushed away from the table. The legs of his chair scratched against the wood grain of the floor as he stood. "No. We have to tell her the truth. She deserves that. I'll agree that we need to protect her from the public and the press, but she needs to know that her test didn't work, that Adrian falsified the blind studies, that you manipulated the final results, and that I changed the names."

Draco and Marcus stood and stared at each other for ten seconds or longer before finally, Adrian spoke. "Agreed. That's best. She'll be angry at us. She may never forgive us, but she wasn't a Slytherin. She values truthfulness, being a fucking, former Gryffindor. We can't lie to her. We'll only lie to the press and the public."

Marcus and Draco still stared at each other. Draco walked over to Marcus and placed a hand on his shoulder. "She may never forgive you. She may never want to see you again."

"I'll take that chance," Marcus said. "Besides, I don't want her to place all the blame on you. You don't deserve it. And who knows? Perhaps she'll pick you in the end."

Draco smirked and said, "One can always hope. I know I'd pick me over you." He patted Marcus' back. Marcus sat back down in his chair. "Alright," Draco continued, "so we start this tomorrow."

Marcus and the other men all nodded in agreement, with Marcus being the one to say, "Yes, tomorrow. She'll find out the truth tomorrow."

In the guestroom, Hermione was dressing in her now dried clothing. She was finishing by placing her boots on her feet when Anna walked in the room. "Are you almost dressed? Oh, obviously," the woman said with a laugh.

"Where are the men?" Hermione asked.

"I don't really know," Anna admitted. "They all went off down another hallway, but I think something's afoot. While the healer was attending to you, I waited in the hall, and suddenly there was a scuffle of sorts between them."

Hermione frowned as she stood to place her jacket on her arms. "A scuffle? What do you mean? Those five never fight. They're like brothers."

"Well, from what I could see, Marcus, Adrian and Draco were in a heated discussion, and suddenly Draco pushed Marcus, Adrian got between them, then he was pushed away by Marcus. Then Draco turned his anger unto Adrian and he pulled back his fist, but before he could strike Adrian, Blaise Zabini came into the fray. He pushed Draco away, and Draco's punch landed in the air. Then Theo walked into the mix, started to yell at them all, and that was when I showed myself."

"Theo yelled?" Hermione asked, aghast. Theo never yelled.

Anna nodded. "Yes, and when they saw me, Adrian said something about how this wasn't the time or place and they would discuss everything later, and Marcus said he was sick of Adrian always deciding everything for everyone, and Draco agreed, and I started to walk closer to them at this point."

Hermione was captivated. "Then what happened?"

"Well," Anna explained, "I asked if everything was okay, and Marcus and Blaise turned toward me and said that yes it was, and could I wait inside your room, or downstairs, and Draco shouted that it was his bloody house, and he would tell me where to wait, and Adrian started toward me, saying that he would escort me home, and that was when it happened."

"WHAT?" Hermione asked, her voice raised just a few decimals lower than a train whistle. "What happened then?"

"Adrian got hit in the mouth and was knocked down to the floor." Anna's eyes were wide as she revealed this.

Hermione gasped. "Marcus hit Adrian?"

Anna shook her head no.

"Not Blaise, surely?"

Again, another head shake denoting a no.

"WHO? That only leaves Theo! He's the most docile of that group! He rarely even speaks, and when he does, it's only to be all haughty and snobbish! He would never resort to physical violence!"

Another no.

Hermione's hand went to her mouth, and she squeaked, "Oh dear, it had to be Draco. He has such a bad temper. He hates to be told what to do. Draco hit Adrian."

Anna shrugged and said, "That's what I assumed. Adrian started toward me, his arm out, telling me that he would see me home. Draco shouted that it was his home, that I was his responsibility, and he would decide what happened to me, Marcus and Blaise were shouting to both of them to be quiet, and I stood there, my mouth open in shock, and finally I said, 'I don't think I want any of you to see me home.' To which Theo said, 'I don't blame her, you're all a bunch of lunatics.' But Adrian took my arm anyway, and that was when he did it. Draco pulled back his arm and hit him. He fell down flat. His bottom lip busted open, bloodied, and swollen."

Hermione's mouth was opened wide. She was astonished. Shocked. "I wonder why they were fighting?"

"Well, I overheard a good part of their conversation, before they left to go talk in private." In truth, Anna overheard Marcus make an admission to Draco regarding the Marriage Law tests.

Hermione looked at the other woman gravely and pulled on her sleeve. "Please, tell me what they said. Tell me why five best friends would fight so terribly."

Anna sincerely wanted to be honest with Hermione. She had overheard more than just Marcus' admission. She had heard Draco and Adrian discuss that the tests weren't accurate. She had overhead Draco admit to placing Hermione's name in his envelope. She also overheard Marcus' admission that he too changed the results in the envelopes.

However, she knew it wasn't her place to tell the other woman any of this. She barely knew Hermione Granger, but what she knew OF her, she knew that she was a truthful, forthright, sincere, hardworking, courageous, incredibly smart woman, who valued friendship and honesty over almost everything else. But she also heard Marcus tell the other men that Hermione had told him that she loved him. If that was true, then Anna didn't feel right messing with love. Love was fickle. Love didn't happen often, or to many people. Anna knew this first hand. She had been waiting for true love for a long time, and had yet to find it.

Therefore, if Hermione loved Marcus and Marcus loved Hermione, (which she believed that he did or else he wouldn't have changed the envelopes) then she would leave it to them to work this entire thing out for themselves. She smiled at Hermione and said, "You'll find out soon enough, but it's not my place to tell you. I'm sorry, Hermione. I truly am. I hope someday we can consider ourselves friends."

At that moment, Marcus knocked upon the doorjamb to the opened door. He blinked and sighed and asked, "Hermione, do you mind if I just take you home, instead of us eating here? It's getting rather late now, and you wanted to get an early start to your parent's house tomorrow."

Hermione thought that Marcus looked worn-out and weary. What had occurred between the five former Slytherins while she was being examined by the healer? She bit her lip, and then suggested, "Perhaps we could leave tonight, instead of waiting for the morning. That would give us a full day at my parent's house tomorrow. Would that be okay? We could even drive, instead of Apparating. It's a four hour trip, but that would give us time to talk. We can stop for food on the way."

She approached him slowly and placed a hand upon his chest. She looked up into his dark, brown eyes. They looked back at her, blankly. She could tell something weighed on him heavily. Anna slipped from the room, shouldering past the two of them. Hermione continued to plead with Marcus, with her eyes, her touch, her smile. She thought to herself, _'Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what happened. Tell me why you're so sad. Tell me you haven't changed your mind about the way you feel for me.'_

Suddenly, he wrapped both arms around her, still leaning against the doorjamb, and placed his chin upon her head. He was so much taller than her that her face rested directly on his chest. She thought he smelled so good. Like the enchanted woods that they had explored, plus something more, something distinctly him. She felt comfort in his arms.

He whispered in her hair, "I'll do whatever you want to do. I'll go wherever you want to go. Just please, remember what you said to me earlier. Try to remember how you feel at this moment, right now."

She looked up at him, and he glared back down at her. She felt the steady beat of his heart next to her face. She said, "I will. Marcus, when I told you earlier that I loved you, I meant it. I know it seems fast and all, but that doesn't mean it's not true. I want you to remember how you feel, too."

He gathered her closer. He swallowed the lump that was in his throat even as he stroked her now dry hair with his hands. He framed her face with his hands, leaned down, and kissed her wet lips with his dry ones, softly, fleetingly, and said, "I could never forget the way I feel. I love you, Hermione. Very much. You must remember that as well. Don't forget either of those things. No matter what, those two things are self evident and true."

He placed his face close to hers, kissed one eye, then the other, and he made a decision. He wouldn't tell her until the end of the weekend. He wanted one more weekend with her. Because even though she was a woman of her word, and she had just given him her word that she wouldn't forget that she loved him, he had a feeling of foreboding hanging over him.

She wouldn't forget that she loved him, and somehow, when he told her the truth, the fact that she had opened her heart to love him would make the pain of his betrayal so much worse. It would cut her to the quick. It would bleed her dry. It wouldn't turn the love to hate, he could only wish for that.

No, it would hurt more than that. It would turn the love to pain. She would continue to love him, and that would hurt most of all.

Anna sat at the bottom of the staircase that led to the backdoors to the Manor. Hermione and Marcus had already left, as had Adrian and Blaise. She was waiting for Theo. He had brought her here, so she was waiting for him to take her back.

She turned her watch around her left wrist with her right hand, absentmindedly. It was a nervous habit. She stopped turning it long enough to look at the time. Theo told her he would be downstairs in fifteen minutes. That was twenty-two minutes ago. Should she leave on her own? She knew she couldn't Disapparate from the large Manor, and she felt uncertain walking outside the large estate, to try to find an Apparition point.

She stood and looked out at the cold, grey, January late afternoon sky. The grey sky reflected how she felt, as surely as the glass in the window reflected her face. She saw her reflection in the glass and wondered what was wrong with her. People told her she was pretty. She had plenty of friends. Why didn't anyone want her?

She knew she was being mawkish and over-sentimental, but she felt justified. Draco Malfoy's test revealed she was one of five that would be a match for him, yet he didn't even consider her. Marcus Flint saw her name in his envelope and quickly tossed her aside. She hadn't had a boyfriend since University. Of course, she didn't really have the time until now. First she helped her mother nurse her father during his illness, and then when he died, she had to go work to support the two of them. Then her mother became sick suddenly, and she nursed her for a year until she was left alone.

All she did was work, go home, eat, read, and then go to sleep. She rarely entertained friends, or went out with them. She couldn't recall the last time she went out on a date. Men used to ask her out all the time, but she always said no. She was used to saying no. She said no for so long, out of duty – taking care of sick parents, that even now, with her parents gone, she still found it easier to say no than to say yes.

She didn't want to be lonely any longer. She was happy for this law. She thought of it as her 'saving grace' and now it was about to be overturned. No matter. No one wanted her anyway, law or not.

She sat back down on the second to bottom step, placed her cheek against the wall, and didn't even notice when tears sprang to her eyes.

She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her. Embarrassed, she swiped at her eyes, and before she stood said, "It's about time, Nott. I was beginning to think you forgot about me." She turned on the stairs in time to see Draco Malfoy staring down at her.

"I think he did forget about you, actually. He just left," Draco said. He reached inside his trousers and drew out a handkerchief, handing it to her, but asking no questions. Good. She didn't know why she was crying anyway. She took the clean, ironed piece of white silk from his outstretched hand and dabbed at her eyes.

"Would you mind showing me how I might get out of this place?" she asked with a forced smile. "Theo said it's like a fortress, so I assumed I couldn't merely Disapparate from just anywhere."

"True. You wouldn't even be able to walk out the doors on your own. I'll see you home, I just have to see to something first," Draco offered. He walked the rest of the way down the stairs and said, "Just stay there for a moment, don't go anywhere." He started down the back hallway toward the kitchens.

"Where else would I go, if I can't leave on my own?" she asked, flippantly.

He turned back to face her, a funny expression on his face. "Pardon?" he asked, though he had heard her fine.

"I said I'll stay right here," she lied.

"Right, that's what you said," he relayed sarcastically. "Listen, do you have a problem with me?"

"Perhaps," she admitted. "Does it matter, since we aren't really matched for each other, and the law will probably be overturned by this time next week?"

He leaned against the wall, crossing his ankles, and he laughed. "I knew you had overheard more than we thought."

She shrugged. She turned back toward the doors and looked back outside, placing one hand on the cold glass of the window. She said, "Could you hurry? I'd like to get home before it gets much later."

He walked closer, stood directly behind her. She saw his reflection over her shoulder in the glass. He retorted, "Why? Do you have a hot date tonight? I thought Theo told me you never dated. My mistake. Or perhaps you merely need to get home to feed your cat or something, or did you leave a book at a particularly good spot, and you need to rush home to find out what happens next?"

She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed to slits, and she barked, "No need to try to be cruel, your words won't wound me, and it's a bit of all of the above. I have two cats, one dog, and yes, call them crazy, but they like to eat. I'm reading a very good book right now and while I think I finally figured out who the murderer is, unless I decide to read the last chapter early, as I admit I usually do, I won't know if I'm right until I get home to read it."

She walked up to him, stood chest to chest, and then poked him hard with her finger. "As for the hot date, Malfoy, I haven't gone on a date in so long, that I wouldn't even know what classifies as a hot date these days, not that it's any of your concern." She poked him again, in the chest, twice, for good measure.

He smiled at her. He reached for her finger during the second poke and held it tight. He said, "A pity that your night is so well thought out, mapped out so tidily, yet you're going to have to change your plans. Your cats and dogs won't starve if you feed them later. Your book won't change the villain at the last second, so it too can wait."

She tried to pull her finger from his grasp, but he merely grasped her entire hand instead. She felt off kilter by the contact. He concluded, "And as for the hot date, well, time can only tell these things. I was going to suggest that you join me for supper, but now I simply must insist."

"You arrogant swine," she bristled.

He laughed. "I love when women call me pet names. It makes my heart aflutter and my mind turn to mush." He released her hand and started down the hallway. She turned to walk out the door, but it wouldn't open.

From the end of the hallway Malfoy said, "Oh, sweetheart, I thought I already told you, you can't leave here on your own. That door won't even open if I don't want it to, so you might as well resign yourself to the fact that you, sweetie, have a very hot date tonight, with me." He turned away again, laughed, and added, "Keep up or be left behind, that's my motto. This place is so bloody big you're bound to get lost!"

She glared at his retreating back, stomped her foot, but was forced to follow him. The alternative was to be left behind, and she certainly didn't want to be left behind at Malfoy Manor of all places.

A few minutes later Theo walked down the backstairs, puzzled, and he said, "I told Anna to wait right here for me? Where did she go?"


	13. Chapter 13

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 13 – A Long Awaited, but Short, Silent Chapter, but before you Shout Your Disappointment to the World (or in a review) You'll get Another Chapter Tomorrow**

The only sounds heard inside the dark car speeding down the roadway were the sounds of the heater hissing, the muffled sounds of the rubber tires against the paved roadway, and the occasional sigh or breathing from one of the two occupants. There was no conversation. There was no music on the radio. In the words of _Simon and Garfunkle_, there was nothing but the sounds of silence. The silence hung so heavy that Marcus felt as if he was about to choke upon it, and Hermione felt as if she was about to drown underneath it, yet the silence pressed on and hung heavy around them like a blanket.

When she suggested earlier that they leave this evening for her parents' house, instead of waiting for tomorrow, he didn't argue. He went to his flat, packed, and met her at her flat. The sooner they started this weekend, the sooner they could finish it, and the sooner he could tell her the truth, and they could all get on with their future, whatever that future might hold.

She could tell he was distracted the moment he entered her apartment. She was still packing and she was talking aimlessly with him, about everything and nothing, but he wasn't paying her any mind. He seemed far away. He had yet to say a single word. He was silent. He had seemed thus all afternoon, ever since her accident.

She left her bedroom with one suitcase, a shopping bag in one hand, and a shoulder bag over her shoulder. He approached, took her load from her, and finally said, "You Disapparate, and I'll follow. Just tell me how to get there."

"Oh," she said, seemingly disappointed. "I thought I explained. I was hoping we could drive there this evening. It's only a couple of hours away, and it would give us time to talk."

He dropped her bags, all at once. "Talk?"

"Yes, talk."

"Why do you want to talk?" he asked wearily. He rubbed his face with his hand.

"Why don't you want to talk?" she countered.

He sighed, loud and long, which put her off, making her immediately angry, because if he had something to say, she wished he would just say it, instead of 'sighing'. She bent down, picked up her bags that he had dropped and said, "Nevermind. We'll Apparate. Just get your own bags and hold on and you can side-along."

"No." He backed away. "If you want to drive, we can, but how do you even know that I can drive, or own a car? Many wizards don't, you know. Many don't drive. Theo and Blaise don't drive at all. Malfoy rarely does. Adrian does only occasionally."

"Do you drive?" she asked. She lowered her suitcase to the floor.

"Yes, I do," he answered.

She threw up her hands. "See, this is the type of thing we should know about each other, and the type of things my parents will find odd that we don't know about each other. That's why I thought the drive would be good, so we could learn a bit more about each other. I don't want my parents to worry or become suspicious. You see, I only told them that I was no longer with Ron and that I was dating someone new. I didn't tell them about the Marriage Edict, because frankly, they wouldn't understand."

"What wouldn't they understand?" he begged, sincerely.

"You know," she said with a shrug, "they believe in freewill." She laughed as if it was a joke.

Marcus huffed sarcastically and said, "Hmm, imagine that. Freewill." Just the thought of that word gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. He had basically taken away Hermione's 'freewill' and it was hard to admit as much.

Misunderstanding that his anger was directed at himself, Hermione said, "Listen, what's wrong with you? I'm not forcing you to come. You have freewill, Mister!" She pushed him slightly, which shocked him, though he fought not to smile. "You don't even have to marry me if you don't want to!" she said, exasperated.

"One thing has nothing to do with the other, but I think it's curious that you invented the damn potion that led to the law, yet your parents know nothing about it!" he argued.

"Why are we fighting about this?" she asked, mostly to herself. Turning toward him she quizzed, "What did you tell your mother about me?"

"That's beside the point," he labored.

"Oh ho!" she barked, slapping her hands together and pointing at him. "I do think Mr. Kettle has been introduced to Ms. Pot!"

"What?" he asked confused. "Who the hell is Ms. Pot?"

"Nothing, it's just a Muggle expression, something about the pot calling the kettle black, and you Mr. Flint, are the pot, because you're berated me for not telling my parents, when they aren't even magical, yet your mother is bound to know about the law by now, yet you haven't told her about me yet!"

"I thought I was the kettle?" he asked, trying hard to suppress his grin once again. He had missed _this_. He liked to argue inane things back and forth with Hermione. He had felt as if he had been walking on eggshells for the last week, and he had missed THIS part of their previous relationship.

She sucked in her cheeks, folded her arms in front of her, and said, "You're not the kettle, you're the damn caveman!"

He laughed. Yes, he had missed this part of their relationship so much. Things were easier back when he had unrequited love for her, she had mild disdain for him, they argued back and forth, she called him all sorts of names like 'caveman' and he didn't have to worry about hurting her feelings or lying to her.

"Stop laughing," she ordered, pointing at him. He laughed harder. She smiled and said, "Seriously, do you want to cancel going to my parents' house? I mean, I still have to go, because it's my mother's birthday tomorrow, but you don't have to go if you don't want to go. I just thought we'd have all day tomorrow, the birthday party tomorrow night, then all day Saturday together, before we went to your mother's house. Don't you want to spend time with me?"

Damn her. Of course he wanted to spend time with her. That was the reason he manipulated the test results, and the reason he was in the mess he was in now. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then grabbed her into his arms. He stroked her hair and said, "You know I do. Something's been weighing on me, that's all."

"I can tell, because you've been so quiet. What is it? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" she whispered into his chest.

"I wish that were true," he started, "I hope it is."

"We won't have any kind of future together if it's not," she answered plainly.

And that was the source of his problem. He wouldn't think of it right now. Again, he would give himself tonight and tomorrow before he told her. He pushed her away, picked up their things and said, "We'll have to take your car. Mine's at Malfoy's, in his garage, and I don't want to go back there for anything."

That was a half an hour ago. They threw their things in her boot, she handed him the keys, told him how to get to her parents' house, opened the passenger side, got in and waited for him to get in the driver's side. Once he was in and they were on their way, the silence started and continued, and continued, and continued.

_Back at Malfoy Manor:_

"Where are your parents?" Anna asked nervously as Draco helped her into her seat at the end of a very long, elegant dining table. She sat down in the chair and looked around the large room, staring at the opulence and elegance and feeling terribly out of place.

She looked in front of her and noticed fine, white china, trimmed in solid platinum. Solid silver forks, four of them, to one side, three small forks, (one with only two tines) and one long handled spoon at the top of her plate setting, a knife, three spoons: demitasse, teaspoon, soup spoon, and a strange looking half-spoon half-fork concoction to the right of them all. There was a water goblet, a wine glass, a highball glass, a snifter, and a champagne flute. There were two large plates sitting on top of a solid gold charger, and salad plate on top of that, and a soup bowl on top of them all.

A finger bowl lay to the side. A napkin, folded like a swan, sat on the top of all the plates. Anna didn't know whether she was supposed to eat with the accouterments before her or inventory them.

Draco walked all the way to the end of the table, opposite her. Very far away. She felt as if they were in different countries. He took the 'swan' napkin, flicked it open with his wrist, and said, "My parents, did you way? They're in Italy at the moment, but even if they were here, they wouldn't eat in here. They usually dine in the main dining hall."

Anna looked around. If this wasn't the main dining hall, then what was it? "Where are we?"

"The family's dining room," he said evenly. "Why? Isn't this to your liking? I thought you would like a more intimate setting, but if you'd prefer something fancier, we can move to the main dining hall."

"Are you joking with me?" she asked.

He snapped his fingers and motioned that an elf should fill his wine glass. He looked down the long table at her and said, "What did you say?"

"Can't you hear me all the WAY DOWN THERE?" She practically screamed the last part of her question.

Draco smirked. He had been pulling one over on her, but he didn't want to show her yet. He wanted to see how far he could continue before she showed her dander. Apparently, he didn't have to wait very long. Before he could say another word she picked up her 'swan' napkin, threw it on the floor, and said, "I'm not interested in eating with you if I have to yell at you all evening, and besides, I don't even know the purpose of half of these utensils. I might impale myself! I think I'll Floo Theo, if you'll allow me the use of your Floo, and I'll ask him to take me home." She stood to leave.

He downed his wine, stood up and said, "Rude, aren't you? Well, come on, then, let's go."

He walked briskly out of the room. She stood there, numbly, not knowing if she was to really follow or not. She started toward the fireplace when he darted his head back into the room and said, "Are you coming or staying? If you stay, the elves will force you to eat a twelve course dinner, and that's never a pretty sight, sweetheart, so buck up, and get your arse in gear and follow me." He laughed as he disappeared again.

She moaned, but followed.

_Back to the silence:_

There was hardly any traffic on the two-lane country road where Marcus and Hermione were now traveling. Hermione longed to see headlights, or something, anything, to break the monotony of riding in the car with a silent Marcus Flint.

She had always known that he could be quiet and introverted. Truthfully, she rather liked those two things about him, and she usually found peace and comfort, as well as strength, in his silence. When others were loud and boisterous to make themselves heard, he would usually sit back and reflect on things, only making comments when true comments needed to be made.

One time, Hermione was invited by Adrian to come with his group of friends to a very important Quidditch game. He knew she didn't like Quidditch, and that she didn't particularly like his group of friends, but they were invited to share a box with a very well known, and respected, Potion's Master that Adrian knew Hermione wanted to meet.

Before the game, while Draco, Theo and the others, including Marcus, spoke of Quidditch and their favourite teams, Adrian introduced Hermione to this man. The man immediately didn't like Hermione, for some reason or the other. She was used to such blind prejudice. Either people didn't like her because she was a female, a Muggle-born, or because of her notoriety as Harry Potter's friend, of which she never played upon, but which was often thrust upon her.

However, she had admired this man. She had read most of his work. She told him that she became a Potion Mistress partly because of him. He didn't seem to care. He laughed at that sentiment, told her that Muggle-born females didn't have the aptitude to become great Potion Masters and then he turned away from her and started to talk with Adrian, even going so far as to tell him that he found Hermione's 'gushing' embarrassing.

Only Adrian overhead the man's comments…well, only Adrian and Hermione, or so she assumed at the time. Hermione's feelings were hurt and she wanted to leave, even though once the game started, no one seemed to care. Still, because of his hateful attitude, she was quiet and withdrawn during the game, more so than usual.

Adrian was aware and tried to draw her out of her mood. Draco didn't know why she was being quiet, but figured it was to ruin 'their' good time and he chastised her and called her a wet blanket. Theo tried to persuade the others to ignore her, telling them that it was probably just 'her time of the month' because his sisters acted the same when it was theirs. Blaise tried to include her in their jokes, even though she became quieter as the match continued.

Marcus grew more and more quiet right along with her. She didn't think about it at the time, but sitting in the car with him now, in his companioned silence, she realized that it was true. The more withdrawn and quiet she became that day, the more he did as well, even though he was the biggest Quidditch fan of them all, having once played professionally.

Finally, during a break in the match, when the others left their box for refreshments, he stayed with her and he said, "I think I'll see you home now, Hermione, if you don't mind. I know Adrian said he would take you later, but this is proving to be a long game, and it's his favourite team, and I'm sure he'd rather not miss any of it, and surely you wouldn't want to wait for it to end, so I'll take you now, okay?"

She only could nod, her emotions worn and frayed.

They both stood to leave. They were high in the stands, in one of the tops boxes. They had to walk directly in front of the others as they all stood outside the entrance to this man's box. The man was laughing at something that Adrian had said, and as they pass by, Marcus didn't even look at the man. Hermione glanced his way quickly, but then stumbled as she did. Before she could become embarrassed, Marcus reached backwards for her hand and held it the entire way down to the ground.

She didn't think about it at the time. At the time, she figured he did it because they were so high up, and her fear of heights was well known, but now that she thought about it, she knew that he did it to give her courage, in his own silent, 'Marcus Flint' sort of way.

Walking out of the stands, he didn't mention it to her. He never said a thing to her. He merely took her home, seeing her all the way to her door, and then she assumed that he went back to the game. It was only the next day, at work, that Adrian mentioned that Marcus had overheard the man's cruelty toward her, and that was what provoked him to take her home early, and then to leave himself.

He didn't go back to the match.

He was angry on her behalf, but he didn't cause a clash, he didn't throw a fit, or start a fight. He merely kept her company in her silence, and then he stayed away from the game as a show of solidarity. He didn't do it for the glory, because she would never have known his intentions if Adrian hadn't told her about them later.

Therefore, if for some reason he needed to be quiet now, she would let him, and she would keep him company in his silence. However, she reached over and held his hand, just as he held her hand that day, and with that one gesture, she said more than he could ever imagine, and more she could ever bestow.


	14. Chapter 14

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 14 – The Chapter that Comes after Thirteen, and it's All about Holding Hands**

"It's the seventh house on the left," Hermione informed Marcus as they turned down a dark, narrow, residential lane. She finally released his hand, after having held it during most of the journey.

Using both hands to turn down the lane, he asked, "Second, you said?"

"Seventh," she repeated.

He counted the houses quickly, drove up to a large, two-story, red brick house, and then pulled into a graveled drive in front of an attached garage. Shutting off the engine, he looked up at the well maintained house and said, "It's rather dark and deserted looking," he looked at his watch, holding his lit wand next to it, "for eight-twenty-eight in the evening."

"It does, doesn't it?" Hermione opened her door and he did the same. She joined him at the boot to retrieve their luggage and pulled out her mobile phone. "I didn't tell them we were coming tonight. They're still expecting us tomorrow, so perhaps they retired early, or went out tonight. I'll call them and see."

She pushed her parents' phone number in her phone and waited. Marcus smiled, mumbled, "You do that, Hermione, you do that," but started walking toward the front door. He planted the luggage on the little front porch and knocked on the door. She walked toward him, closed her phone and asked, "What are you doing?"

"The same as you. I'm seeing if they're home," he said, amused.

She laughed. She liked his 'take charge' attitude, and said, "You always were one to take charge of a situation. You like to take care of things, don't you?"

"No, I like to take care of you," he corrected, knocking again. "I don't think they're home."

Leaning on his arm for support, she bent down, fumbled around a planter that sat to the side of the door for a moment, and said, "Well, I could have told you that they aren't, because they didn't answer their phone."

"What are you doing?" He was amused again. She had her fingers from one hand wrapped tightly around his forearm, and her other hand was digging around in some dirt.

"I'm looking for their spare key. They used to leave it in the planter," she surmised.

Again, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He turned to the door, tapped it with his wand, and it opened. She tried hard to suppress her smile, all they while saying, "Well, yes, that works, too, if you want to do things the EASY way." She walked past him into the foyer, moving her hand from his forearm to clasp his hand as she went, so that he was forced to follow closely behind.

"Leave the things in the hallway," she ordered. She stepped toward the back of the long front hall toward the kitchen, and Marcus followed still, frankly because she still had his hand, although he could have removed it anytime he wanted. He merely didn't want to remove it. He liked holding her hand.

Finally, once in the dark kitchen, she dropped his hand and opened the refrigerator door while he turned on the lights, again with his wand. She pointed at him and scolded, "You best do that sparingly around my folks. I have to say, they've never been comfortable with magic being used for simple things. They think it's wasteful."

"How is it wasteful? It's not like we have a limited number of times we can use magic in our lives. Magic is infinite," Marcus reasoned.

Hermione gave him an odd look, closed the fridge door with her foot, while balancing eggs, milk and cheese in her hands, and she said, "You know that. I know that. The whole, wide wizarding world knows that. Two Muggle dentists, however, don't see it that way. They've never approved of using magic for easy fixes, or for using it when other means of accomplishing something can be used."

Marcus wiggled his eyebrows and flicked his wand. The lights turned back off, leaving them in total darkness. "Turn those back on!" she laughed.

"I don't know where the switch is," he argued truthfully. She turned around, placed the food on the counter, and started across the room. She ran directly into Marcus' chest. He placed his arms around her. "I think I like the dark better anyway," he observed, his breath fanning across her cheek and her mouth. Slowly, he reached for her hair, and brushed it off her shoulders, to her back. Then he lifted the same hand and rubbed his thumb against her lips before bending his head to kiss her briefly.

Hermione almost purred and closed her eyes in yearning, as she felt his hand move across her temple before it went back to grasp her hand. She said, "Yes well, there are quiet a few things one can do in the dark without a wand as well, Mr. Flint."

"That's Mr. Kettle to you," he joked, bringing their clasped hands to his mouth, turning them, and then brushing another light kiss across her knuckles. "And I'm an innocent young thing, and you'll have to show me, in intimate details, to what you're referring, 'right?" He leaned his nose toward her neck again, skimmed it lightly, and then placed an open mouth kiss directly upon her pulse.

"I think you found my switch," she teased. Then she eased out of his arms, dropped his hand, turned on the light (with the switch) and said, "I'll make us some eggs and toast."

"Without magic?" he asked, smiling. He sat at the kitchen table, removed his jacket and leaned back, one arm on the back of the neighboring chair.

Removing her things and placing them on the chair beside his, She gave him a teasing smile and nodded as she regarded, "Certainly, without magic."

She went straight to work. Marcus stood up and began to explore the kitchen. When that was done, he moved to the dining room, turning on the light WITHOUT his wand. He noticed a piano in this room. On the back were many pictures, mostly of a younger Hermione. Picking up one from when she was a little girl, he stared at it intently. His thumbed rubbed the smooth glass back and forth, as if he was rubbing the 'cheek' of the girl in the picture.

She stood in the doorway.

He knew she was there, and not because she made any noise, but because he felt her presence. "This is how you looked when you started school. You were such a brave little thing, always on guard, defending those who needed defending, protecting those who needed protecting. I often wondered who would defend her. Who would protect her?"

She stood behind him and placed her arms around his stomach. "I wouldn't have thought you would have noticed me back then, since I was so much younger."

He patted her hands as they rested on his stomach and picked up another picture. She was older in the second one, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. "You were so pretty," he said, off-handed.

"Were?" she questioned with a mocked annoyance in her tone.

He laughed, turned, and said, "Yes, were. Now you're merely breathtakingly beautiful."

"Well, alright then," she smirked. "Eggs are done." She pulled on his arm, and then moved to hold his hand, leading him back into the kitchen. "I didn't know if you wanted milk, juice, or coffee, so I gave you all three."

"Your parents will be shocked that you don't know what I like to drink, Hermione," he scoffed. He pushed the milk and juice away and sipped at the coffee before he started to eat his eggs.

She played with her food, pensively, and finally said, "About my parents, Marcus…"

"Yes?" He took another large bite of eggs. He was starving, and didn't even know it, but they had missed lunch and dinner, after all. When she didn't say anything else, he looked up at her and repeated, "Yes?"

"They wouldn't want us to share a room while we're here," she said softly. "They're old-fashioned, like that. They didn't even like Ron and me to sleep in the same room when we visited, and we lived together." She gave a nervous laugh at the end, and finally scooped a large bite of eggs on her fork and shoved them in her mouth.

He looked at her for several long seconds and finally said, "That's fine." He wondered if what she was saying was true – that her parents were conservative prudes, or was it merely the fact that she was nervous about being intimate with him. Truthfully, he didn't know if he could take their relationship to that next level until he was honest with her about everything, anyway. It would be the ultimate act of betrayal to sleep with her without first being honest with her about everything.

They ate and chatted, about silly things and nonsense, until they heard a key in the front door. "Either someone found the key in the planter, or your parents are home," Marcus observed.

Hermione hurried and cleared their plates, cleaning them quickly, along with the pan, (with her wand!) earning her a chastising look and a laugh from Marcus and then she took his hand and pulled him into the front foyer. She kept his hand in hers as the front door opened.

"I told you it was her car, Donald," her mother said as she crossed the threshold. She threw her purse and coat at Hermione's father and hugged her daughter. "What are you doing here? You weren't supposed to come until Friday night, for my birthday party!"

"We thought we'd surprise you and come a day early," Hermione squealed. She released her mother and gave her father a hug around the middle, then motioned toward the other end of the hallway, saying, "Mum, Dad, I'd like you to meet my new fiancé, Marcus Flint."

"Fiancé?" her mother asked, shocked. "You never mentioned that!"

Hermione smiled widely. Marcus was as shocked as Hermione's mother. He thought that Hermione wasn't going to tell them about the Marriage Edict, yet here she was introducing him as her betrothed. The fact that she was honest with them made him realized that he loved her more than ever. He leaned forward, shook her mother's hand first and then her father's.

Suddenly, her father stepped aside, Hermione still tucked to his side, and he said, "Look, George. My little girl brought her fiancé home for us to meet."

Her mother added, "And he's so very tall, and good-looking, too." Marcus smiled toward Mrs. Granger and her compliment, therefore not noticing when a man walked past Hermione, into the cramped foyer, until he extended his hand toward Marcus. Marcus shook it and smiled, and while the man was saying hello, he looked at Hermione's expression. She had turned white as stone, and she stood ridge at her father's side. Moreover, the man moved slightly so that his shoulder touched hers and she went from standing ridged to moving rapidly away from between her father and the man named George Fairgoer, to stand behind her mother.

"George is our next door neighbor," Hermione's mum explained to Marcus. Marcus smiled, but his eyes darted to Hermione, now standing behind her mother, to Marcus' left. Marcus nodded politely as her mother, Katherine, explained that George's wife had died several years ago, that he was one of their closest friends, and he had known Hermione almost all of her life.

"Yes, I've known Hermione since she was a wee little thing," George said with an engaging smile. He opened his arms wide and said, "Give your uncle George a hug hello, Hermione. I haven't seen you in ages."

"Yes, tell George hello, sweetheart," her father urged, walking between his wife and Hermione, toward the kitchen. Mrs. Granger turned to follow her husband, leaving only Hermione, George and Marcus in the foyer.

George continued to smile as he approached her, his arms still opened wide. Hermione froze and looked at the floor. Marcus observed all of this and quietly intervened. Before the man laid one finger upon her, Marcus walked between them, placed his hand in hers and said, "Show me the Loo, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, took Marcus' hand and practically ran with him up the stairs. Directly across the landing, on the second floor, was a doorway. Hermione rushed in, pulling Marcus behind her. She shut the door quietly, almost as if she didn't want anyone to hear, and then she stood next to him in the dark.

"Where are we?" Marcus asked.

"The upstairs toilet," she answered.

"I didn't really have to go," he explained.

"I know," she said, almost breathlessly. He reached across her shoulders and found the light switch in the dark. He flipped on the light. "Turn it off, please, turn it off!" she insisted.

He flipped the light off. She placed her arms around his stomach, hugged him tightly and said, "Thank you."

He hugged her back. She was still shaking, shivering really, the shuddering so pronounced that he would have sworn that she had just come in from the freezing cold, wearing nothing but her birthday suit.

"Who was that man?" he asked gently. He kissed the top of her head.

"I don't want to talk about it," she answered.

"You can tell me anything, Hermione," he urged. He pushed her slightly away from him. The room, which didn't have a window, was still so dark that he couldn't even see her outline, let alone her features. Still, blindly, he stroked her face, cupped her cheek, pointed her mouth upwards, and kissed her lips softly. "I will protect you." He didn't know why he choose those words…_'I will protect you'_, but they seemed apropos.

Before she could comment, and he could explain, there was a knock on the door. He felt her go ridge once again. Marcus called out, "Yes?"

"Mr. Flint? Are you in the dark?" Katherine Granger asked. "I don't see any light under the door. Well, anyway, Donald brought the luggage up, and I had him put yours in the room across from Hermione's old room. Her father and I are going on to bed, and we'll see you in the morning. If you see Hermione, tell her we said goodnight."

"Thank you," Marcus said. He flipped on the light. As soon as the light came on, he noticed Hermione. He had already 'felt' that she was pressed tightly against his chest, but now he saw her. Gazing at their joined reflections in the mirror above the vanity, he noticed that her face was tucked into his jumper, her hands gathering the material in bunches in the front, and that her eyes were closed tightly.

He urged her away, slightly, and said, "The lights are on now, Hermione." She opened her eyes. "Your mother's going to think I'm a right lunatic, going to the toilet in the dark."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She said, "We'll tell her it's a pureblood wizard thing. She won't question it then."

She opened the door and once again pulled him by his hand down the upstairs hallway. It occurred to him that she was holding his hand rather tightly, not that he minded.

She pointed to a room on the left side and said, "That's the guestroom. There's a telly in there, and some magazines. I know it's early, but I'm bushed. If you need anything, come get me. If you want to shower before bed, there are towels in the closet in the bathroom." She started to the room on the right, but oddly enough, she still held his hand.

When they reached the door to her room he said, "What was all that about, Hermione? I asked you once, and I'd really like to know. Who was that man? Did he hurt you once, or something?"

"No," she said humbly, in a soft voice.

"Then why are you grasping my hand so tightly that it feels as if it's going through a wringer?" he asked.

Hermione looked at their clasped hands. She shook her head slightly, laughed a small, tittering laugh, and released his hand. Without answering, she said, "Goodnight, Marcus. Pleasant dreams. I'll see you in the morning." She went inside her room, leaving him standing right outside the door. Without a backwards glance, standing inside the room, facing away from him, she said, "And thank-you for always knowing what I need, when I need it. I appreciate it. I almost feel as if you did protect me tonight, oddly enough, although I can't explain beyond that." Without further explanation, she closed the door softly behind her.

Marcus stood in the hallway and waited. Somehow, he knew she would return. He was right. After not even a minute, she opened her door and rushed from it, almost colliding with him. He stopped her by placing his hands on her shoulders.

Looking down at her he said, "What is it?"

"I need…um…well; I think I need to talk. Are you still into that silence phase?" she asked.

He swallowed the knot in his throat, placed both hands on her face, forced her to look up into his eyes, and said, "I will always be here for you, Hermione. Whatever you need, almost before you need it, and I promised that I'll always protect you, even if it's from me, and I'm willing to listen, whenever you want to talk."

Once more that evening, she grabbed his hand, pulled him into her childhood bedroom, and closed the door behind them.

* * *

_A/N: Don't worry; this story isn't going to turn all 'Angst-riddled' on your arses! I just decided to incorporate something that actually happened to me in this story, although I will change it drastically, of course._

_Compared to what many children go through, mine wasn't terribly horrific or traumatizing, but it was still 'disturbing' in a sense to a twelve-year old little girl (little me) and it left a large enough impression on my life to affect how I felt about many things, and how I handle and view many things to this day._

_And no matter what, if an adult hurts a child, in anyway, no matter how, or makes them feel uncomfortable in anyway, it is ALWAYS the adult's fault and NEVER the child's fault, yet one small incident can change the face of our future forever, and that's just sad that something like that has so much power over our lives, and our futures._

_Enough preaching from me. Thanks._


	15. Chapter 15

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 15 – This story only has Five More Chapters to Go!**

Hermione took Marcus' hand and pulled him inside her room. It was mostly dark in the room, since she had yet to turn on the light. The room faced the street, with the bed on the wall by the windows, so some soft light, whether it was natural from the moon, or manmade from streetlights, cast a soft glow all around them, as they sat on the bed and she began to tell him her tale.

She spoke rapidly at first, using hand gestures and facial expressions he had never seen her used before. At times she looked away, other times she looked him straight in the eyes. At times she cried, other times she looked angry and confused. She seemed slightly embarrassed and indifferent, all at the same time. She tried to dismiss it, saying things like, "I know it may not seem bad, but it was devastating to me," or "I was only eleven, you know."

He hurt for her. He hurt for her then and he hurt for her now. At one point of her talking, she said she was cold. She walked around the other side of the bed, pulled down her slacks, pulled off her jumper, and in only knickers, a t-shirt, and bra, she climbed under a pile of blankets and quilts. He didn't know what he was meant to do. He turned on the bed, and as she lowered her head to a pillow and turned to her side, he kicked off his shoes and lay beside her, on top of the pillows, facing her.

She continued to talk. Without forethought, she took his hand. He studied her closely, though he made certain he paid close attention to her story. She was so pretty, so beautiful, so real and alive. Fresh and unaffected. Animated, yet natural. She was everything he wanted and more. He let go of her hand to touch her face, tracing the line of freckles from her cheek to her jaw.

She began to cry intently as her story wound down to the end. Without invitation, though he would have issued it if she had given him a chance, she placed her head on his chest and one arm across his body. He pulled her in tightly, said words of comfort, which he murmured in a hushed whisper.

Finally, she stopped talking. Gentle hiccups and sighs showed signs that her tears were ending. He began to think of what she had told him. He also tried to think of ways he could help her. He wanted to punish that man, but he didn't know how.

Her story came rushing back to him. One time, when she was a girl of eleven, the summer before Hogwarts actually, right before she turned twelve, her next door neighbor did something to her that forever changed how she felt about certain things.

For instance, she said that because of what this man did, she no longer trusted men, whether she knew them well or not. That was probably a good thing. That statement cut Marcus to the bone. He wasn't to be trusted, and she knew him well.

She said that for a long time after the incident in that man's garage that she couldn't be alone with strange men. She said that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were the first boy friends she had ever had, and she explained how hard it was to trust them, befriend them, because of this man, but that she instantly knew Harry needed a friend, and that Ron was going to be someone important in her life, so she looked past the fact that they were males.

She explained that sometimes when she was with Adrian, Marcus, and their small group of friends, she had to work hard to let down her guard and not feel like an innocent, unprotected, eleven year old girl. That statement made him want to weep for her.

Because apparently, the summer before Hogwarts was the first summer her parents decided to leave her alone while they were at work, feeling she was old enough to be alone, being independent, confident and self-aware, and able to take care of herself. She said it was the happiest summer of her life, up to that point, because right before her school term ended she found out about Hogwarts. Instead of feeling different, (as she always had) she said she knew she was 'special', and that made her 'prodigiously happy', (her exact words).

Then something happened that changed her best summer into her worst. She said it was a Friday, she even remembered the date, July 16th. It was 11:30 in the morning. Her parents were already at work. She said it was a beautiful day, sunny, blue sky. She was going to ride her bike, went to the shed, but noticed that it had a flat tire. She looked all around for something called a tire pump. Marcus had no clue what that was, but supposedly she needed it to fix her flat tire, and she couldn't find theirs so she walked next door to borrow one from the neighbors.

George and Linda Fairgoer lived next door. They had no children. Hermione said they had a large Mastiff dog named Homer that scared her and as soon as she approached their house it leaped at the back fence, snarled, and barked at her. However, she said that George and Linda had always been friends were her parents and she was instructed by her father to go to them if she ever needed anything.

She knocked on the door and Mrs. Fairgoer answered. She asked to borrow their bicycle tire pump. The woman told her to go around to the garage, the door was open, and if she could find it, she could borrow it. She said that her husband might be out there working on his car, but she shouldn't disturb him if he was.

Hermione thanked the woman and went to the garage, which was not attached to the house; rather it sat at the end of a long paved drive, slightly behind the house. Hermione walked down the paved drive, kicking a small white stone as she went, Homer the dog running back and forth across the chained-link fence, barking the entire time. The carriage door was closed in the front, so she went around to the side door, knocked, received no reply, so she tried the handle.

The door opened easily. She said the garage was messy, unlike her father's garage. It smelled like motor oil and it was hot and musky. She said it was mostly dark, and she could see dust motes floating around the air near the windows. She called out, "Mr. Fairgoer?" There was no answer. She spied a red bike pump on the wall. Walking past two cars, she reached for the bike pump. She stood on her tiptoes, pulled the pump off the wall, and turned to leave.

The door closed.

She whirled around and noticed Mr. Fairgoer standing in front of the closed door. She couldn't make out his expression, because the door only had three small horizontal windows, and the light was behind him. She remembered thinking it was odd that he wasn't at work. Like her parents, he was a professional, an accountant. She took a deep breath and said, "Your wife said I could borrow your tire pump."

He was in a t-shirt and dirty dungarees. She said he was wiping his hands on an old, blue rag. She stood rooted in the spot, '_not sure why_,' she told Marcus, as he approached her.

He smiled and said, "That's fine, Hermione. My, I haven't seen you since probably Christmas, except on your bicycle as your ride back and forth in front of the house. I hear you're going to a special boarding school in Scotland this coming year."

She nodded. She said for some reason this man had always made her nervous. She said she secretly thought he was handsome, but since he was her father's age, she thought it was wrong to think such. Yet she knew there was something, again…her words…_'lacking in his personality'_.

"I hate to see you go so far away. I'll miss you," he said. Hermione thought that was such an odd thing for him to say. Again, she nodded. "Would you like me to come and help you with the pump? Do you know how to use it?"

"Yes, my father showed me," Hermione replied. She started to step around him.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Usually, the man was clean-shaven, and Hermione said he always smelled of an expensive man's cologne. That day, she said he smelled like sweat and alcohol and as soon as he touched her shoulder, she felt fear. Her chest constricted, her mouth became dry and she wanted to run away.

"I could still come and help you," he said. His hand started to stroke her shoulder up and down. She felt a frisson of fear pass through her, the likes of which she had never felt before. "It's a big job for a little girl; of course, you're not such a little girl anymore. How old are you?"

"I'll be twelve in September," she said. She felt like crying. She wanted him to remove his hand from her shoulder. _Please_. She wanted someone to come into the garage. _Please._ She wanted the door to open. _Please._ She wanted the garage to cave in around her and the earth to swallow her whole. _Please._

"Twelve. Not a little girl any longer," he repeated. He placed his other hand on her other shoulder as well. She clutched the red bike pump with both hands, so tightly that she said she felt a piece of the metal biting into the tender flesh of her palm.

Hermione said the thing he did next she would never forget. He 'smelled her'. He inhaled deeply and pulled her toward him. He embraced her. The only thing separating them was the bicycle pump. His arms went around her. Her head was buried in his t-shirt and she smelled the sweat on his body and she froze and said that more than anything she wanted to die. She really wanted to die.

He hugged her and said, "Yes, everyone will miss you so much, Hermione. I've always wondered if you were named after the little wood nymph from Shakespeare's play. Are you a nymph, Hermione, here to tempt me?"

She said her jaws locked together, as he placed his hand under her chin, angled her head upward toward his and kissed her on the mouth. His other hand pressed on her back and he kissed her, pressing hard, trying to open her mouth with his. She started to cry, dropped the pump, and began to hit him with her hands.

Suddenly, the door opened. It was Mrs. Fairgoer. Hermione felt guilty for some reason. She thought for sure the woman would yell at her, scream at her, or call her names. Instead, she said, "I'll tell her father if you ever try to do that again, George." She walked over to Hermione, picked up the pump, handed it to her, and then escorted her out of the garage. As they crossed through the doorway to the clean air outside, she said, "Don't ever be alone with him again, Hermione. Someone might not be there to help you next time. I'm so sorry about this. He's not always like this, you know? I didn't know he would do this to you, of all people."

Hermione nodded, ran to her house, threw the bike pump on the floor of her garage, and then ran inside. She locked all the doors and windows. She sat on the floor of the kitchen, with the phone in her hand, and rocked back and forth and cried for hours. She thought about calling her mother and father, but she didn't know what she would say to them.

Therefore, she said nothing.

She never told anyone, until now.

She also made certain that she was never alone with the man ever again. His wife died the next year. Hermione said that she felt guilty not confessing what he did, because what if he was a child molester, and what if he hurt other children, and what if it was her fault? What if, what if, **WHAT IF?**

That was when she began to cry in earnest. That was when Marcus held her and told her it wasn't her fault. It could never be her fault.

She was quiet now, lying upon his chest. Her breathing was easy and calm. That was when he made his decision. He was going to tell her. Now. She was truthful with him, so he would be truthful with her.

Except, she was leaning up on her elbow, and she had begun to plant small kisses upon his jaw line. He felt one of her legs try to go over his, though hers were under the covers and his over. Still, her knee was upon his hip, and it touched his heavy, hard erection.

She kissed his chin and cheek. Her mouth went to his neck. He was mostly passive, though his hands went to her arms. Finally, she looked down at him and him at her. "I want to make love to you," she said.

He was torn. He didn't want to deny her, because he wanted her more than life itself, but he had to tell her the truth, or she would never forgive him. He started to push her away from his chest, shaking his head, and he said, "Wait, I have to tell you something first."

She sat up suddenly, turned her back to him and said, "I sorry." She placed her feet on the floor and moved as if she was going to leave the bed.

God. Hermione thought he was rejecting her. He sat up as suddenly as she, pulled her back to her back and placed his heavy body upon hers and before he placed his mouth upon hers he said, "No, I'm the one that's sorry." Then he started to make love to her.

He would tell her the truth later…God help him.

_(Next chapter…love scene and confessions from Marcus!)_


	16. Chapter 16

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 16 - Sorry isn't Such a Hard Word to Say After All, Even if Elton John Says so**

If there were a heaven and a hell, what would constitute a one-way ticket from the afterlife to one instead of the other? If a person lived a mostly good life, but lied occasionally, even though they knew it was wrong, would that be so erroneous? Was the main component toward a life headed toward the pearly gates a steadfast following of the Ten Commandments? What if a person only remembered four or five of them, but was consistent in following those few they remembered?

What if they only broke the minor ones, occasionally, and the major ones hardly ever? Who made it so that 'thou shall not kill' was as important as 'thou shall not covet' or 'thou shall keep the Sabbath-day holy' anyway? Oh yeah, God did that.

Seriously, even if a bloke knew the Commandments, and knew he shouldn't break them, but did it anyway, and he was terribly sorry afterwards, confessing his sins and all, wouldn't everything be okay in the end, or was that only for Catholics? Marcus was unsure of the semantics regarding the finer points.

He wasn't raised any certain religion. Some Wizards were and some weren't. He knew that Hermione's parents went to a protestant church. She said she still went once in a while. He had a friend he played Quidditch with, a Muggle-born, who was Catholic. He had another friend, a bloke, who was Buddhist. He dated Padma Patil once. She was Hindu. Frankly, all Marcus knew was that he DID believe in a higher power, he just didn't know to what extent. He DID try to live a good life, but he was far from perfect, in fact, he was closer to 'imperfect' which would make him Hermione's '_imperfect match'_ instead of her '_perfect match'_. He knew he made many mistakes, and he tried to learn from those mistakes. He knew right from wrong, yet sometimes he was still a selfish person who would seek the wrong thing for 'the right reasons' (IE: Selfishness).

Marcus was confused. Still, he knew he lied to Hermione, he knew it was wrong, and he didn't know what he was going to do about it, not that it mattered. He looked over at her as she finally slept and he knew that she probably hated him now.

It was over. It was done. She would probably hate him forever. He wouldn't blame her if she did. Stroking her hair away from her face he bent down and kissed her forehead and mumbled, "I'm sorry," for the umpteenth time. Unlike the other times he had said it over the course of the night, this time she didn't hear him because she was asleep.

Earlier, she started to kiss him after her confession. He was infused with want for her from the moment she kissed his face. After she said the words, "I want to make love to you," he knew he was going to commit a grievous sin, because even though he was going to try to push her away, if she protested at all, he was pulling her back.

She protested. He pulled back. That was it.

Nervously, he loomed over her, said "I'm sorry," for the first time, directly in her ear, his breath stirring her hair before he took her earlobe in his lips and pulled on it softly. She gasped and he took that moment to reach down and pull his shirt off his body.

Pushing him back to his back, she loomed over him now. She stared at his bare chest, her fingertips moving slowly over his collarbone, his nipples, his ribs, and the slope of his flat stomach.

"How did you get that scar?" she asked, her middle finger grazing a light line that traced over his lower left ribcage.

"Quidditch accident," he explained, "first year of playing professional. Ollie Wood did it, that bastard." Marcus smiled and Hermione smiled back. Still sitting up, she reached down and removed her t-shirt. She had on a navy blue bra. His fingers traced the V where the material met her skin, down one shoulder, over one mound, inside the cleavage, over the next mound, up the next shoulder.

"What's this?" he asked, his finger landing on a small white mark on her otherwise perfect white shoulder.

"A scar from the chickenpox," she said, looking to where he held his finger on her shoulder.

"The what?"

"Muggle childhood disease," she laughed.

She reached down his stomach and undid his snap and his fly. He closed his eyes again. She helped him remove his jeans, watching as he kicked them, with his socks, off the bed. His legs were long and muscular, especially his thighs. He was a bit hairier than Ron, except his chest was smooth, which she liked. He had large, bony feet, and for some reason, she thought that was erotic. She moved down the bed, letting her hands roam lightly over his legs.

Finding another scar, she looked up with questioning eyes. He answered, "Quidditch accident, seventh year, Hogwarts. Again, Oliver Wood's fault, damn Gryffindor."

Hermione smiled yet again. He sat up beside her and placed his large hand over her throat, feeling her rapid pulse. The heel of his hand was over her chest, over her heart. He moved this hand to one shoulder and pulled down one bra strap. Then, he felt compelled to say, yet again, "I'm sorry." He was apologizing for everything in advance.

Of course, she didn't know why he kept apologizing. She probably thought he was a ruddy fool, yet he felt utterly lost and helpless and completely obliged to apologize before, maybe during, and definitely after, they had sex tonight.

As suspected, she misunderstood and said, "It's alright. You can remove it."

He drew in a shaky breath, brought up his other hand, and pulled down the other strap of elastic, so that her bra moved down to her waist. He tried to look her right in the eyes – truly, he did. He tried very hard. He failed.

Something about the way the moonlight fell on her, so intimately, caused him to lose his chain of thought, his breath, his reasoning. He faltered and apologized for the third time. "God, Hermione, I'm so sorry." Then he pulled her to him, placed her under him, kicked back the covers and said, "So beautiful, so lovely."

With trembling fingers he traced around the soft mounds, over their tips, and around and around the nipples until they peaked like hard pebbles and she sighed. She watched as his large hands and long fingers caressed her breasts. She thought his hands would be rough, calloused, but they were softer than she imagined.

Inhaling and gasping at the same time, her legs scissored back and forth on the bed. He moved his hands to her waist, placing his mouth upon her breasts. The shock caused her to tremble, him to groan.

He kissed around her breasts, both of them, lightly as he could. He settled his weight on her lower body. She cradled him naturally in-between her legs. She wanted him inside her, now, and she tried to push her knickers down, but instead he pulled them down for her, and then pulled off his last barrier, fumbling with both of them.

She looked at him with love, and brought a hand up to caress his jaw. He looked back into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." He kissed one eye. "I hope you can forgive me." He kissed the other eye. "Remember that I love you." He kissed her mouth. "Remember that I did everything because I love you more than you'll ever know. Nothing can ever change that."

He kissed her hard. Very hard. Lifting his mouth once more he said, "I am so, so very sorry, my love, my wife in my heart."

She cupped his face. "Marcus, why do you keep apologizing?" she asked.

Before he could answer, he closed his eyes and entered her. She closed hers and all other thoughts went away. Heat flowed between them. He began to kiss her again, and she opened her legs wider, as he pressed into her harder and harder. He gave, she took, and he couldn't remember it ever being this good, this real, or this precious.

It lasted forever, or so it seemed. He didn't want it to end, because he knew it might never occur again, but finally, with one last ultimate stroke, he arched his back, she cried out from underneath him, and he mumbled, "God, I'm so sorry, Hermione. Please forgive me."

A feeling a mutual languidness overwhelmed them. He wanted to stay inside her, on top of her, blanketing her with his body, forever, but he finally had to tell her the truth. It was now or never, and as much as he might want it, it _could never be never_.

Falling to his side, he pulled her to him, angling her so that her back was to his front. With his arms around her he said, "I have a story to tell you now, if I might, a confession of sorts."

"Of course," she said in a hoarse voice.

He held back nothing. He told her everything. He told her that her formula didn't work, but that Adrian presented the results as if they did, because the Ministry was going to issue the Marriage Edict with or without her tests. She flinched in his arms, but he held her tight. He wouldn't let her turn toward him, and she didn't really try. She didn't ask any questions, but then again, he spoke so rapidly that he barely gave her a chance.

Next, he told her how Malfoy's lab was assigned to recreate the results, but they could only pinpoint three to five matches, so Malfoy in his 'infinite bastardness' decided to decide who would get whom.

"So Malfoy picked you and me to be together?" she finally asked. It was the first question he had allowed her to ask.

"No," he said. He knew this question and its answer was necessary for the last part of his confession, the worst part of his crime.

She tried to turn in his arms again. He actually threw a leg over her. "I don't understand. Were we at least one of each other's three to five matched pairs?"

"No," he answered quickly.

She was completely still. Finally, she asked, "Why did Malfoy decide to challenge the law, when he was duplicitous right up there with Adrian and the Ministry? If he didn't like his choice, couldn't he have picked someone else for himself?"

Marcus felt like such an arse. She must have assumed from his two 'no's' that she and he were a perfect match. She still didn't understand. "Hermione, do you still not understand?"

"Make me understand!" she hissed, finally pushing at his arm, and turning to face him. "If we weren't meant to be, how did we get paired together? Why was Malfoy so upset about the law? Why did Adrian lie to me? I thought he was my friend! Does the Ministry realize what will happen when this comes out, and I promise you, it will, if I have to tell everyone myself!"

She sat up in the bed, pulled the sheet around her breasts. He sat up as well. "Which question should I answer," he asked calmly. "I'll answer them all, but which first."

She hit his chest, hard, with one hand and then the other. "How did we get paired?"

"I switched the contents of Malfoy's envelope with mine. Adrian helped me. Malfoy manipulated the results so that he had you, and that's how he knew that the results were tampered with a second time, by me, because he tampered with them the first time."

Hermione hit him again. "This was all a lie!" She pointed toward the bed, toward him, and then herself. "I told you I loved you!"

"Was that a lie?" he asked.

"No, you arse!" She hit him on the chest again, quite hard.

"Then it wasn't all a lie," he said solemnly, "because I love you, too. I wouldn't have done this if I didn't."

"That's why you kept apologizing. You're a liar and fake and I can't stand to see you right now, Marcus Flint!" She kicked at him and hit at him until he was completely off the bed.

She turned to her side and started to cry.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

"What will my parent's say?" she asked back.

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I only know I'm so terribly, terribly sorry." He found his shorts and jeans, slipped them both on, and then went to sit in a chair in the corner of the room. He sat there until she cried herself to sleep.

And now, the hour was late. They talked the first time until close to midnight. They made loved until two. He confessed his sins to her until half past the hour. She cried until three forty-five. She fell back to sleep around four. He climbed back into the bed, pulled her to him, held her, and stroked her hair until five. Dressed, he went to the guestroom and collected his luggage a few minutes later. Placing them outside her door, he propped it back open and kissed her goodbye.

Now, he had two things in which he had to do. For the first thing, he had to leave her house for a moment. He Disapparated directly into her neighbor's house. He wondered if her neighbor still had the large dog, but soon figured that he didn't. He quickly found the man's room. He was alone.

The room smelled of alcohol. The man was snoring loudly. Marcus was filled with anger when he envisioned a small Hermione, made to feel powerless against such a fiend. Of course, during her life, she had faced bigger and deadlier foes than this man, a few when she wasn't much older than the age that she had faced him, yet this was the man that had in essence robbed her of her 'true' innocence, as well as robbed her of her ability to trust, and for that, he must pay. He hated this man almost as much as he hated himself right now, because he felt he TOO had robbed her of something that she could never recoup, but that was his cross to bear.

It had to be tidy. It couldn't be traced back to him. Hermione was smart. If he killed the man, which he wasn't above doing, she might discover it was him. There were other ways to make him pay. There were ways to make him suffer, as he had made her suffer. He finally settled on a spell in which Malfoy bragged had even brought Death Eaters to their knees. Draco claimed that the Dark Lord would use this spell to ensure pain and torment upon a deviant or delinquent Death Eater to keep him in line. Apparently, it was a spell that would manufacture all of the pain and suffering, fear and abuse, which the recipient had placed on others. The recipient of the spell would feel it all. All of it. At once. A hundred times over. The fear and dread and terror that a little eleven year old girl felt at the hands of this beast would be only the beginning of this man's his hurt and anguish. If he had ever hurt another, as Hermione had feared, he would also feel 'their' pain and suffering, fear and self-loathing.

Marcus thought it was fitting. As he inflicted pain on others, let it also be inflicted on him. Wasn't that in that 'Bible' book? Was that one of those Commandments, or was it that 'Rule thing?' _Do onto others_…etc, etc. First, Marcus wanted to look the cowardly bastard in the eyes before delivering the spell, and he wanted the man to KNOW WHY! He wanted him to know it was on behalf of Hermione, whether he remembered what he had done to her or not.

Marcus' hope was that the man would go mad from the suffering. If he killed himself, would it be a loss? Not in Marcus' opinion. He walked over to the man's bed and looked down upon him. Out of the corner of his eye, on the man's nightstand, he spied a Muggle magazine. Marcus picked it up hastily, and in disgust, dropped it just as rapidly. It was filled with elicit imagines of children.

Yes, this man deserved whatever punishment Marcus leveled at him and more.

"Wake up," Marcus barked. He felt angrier by the second. He was usually levelheaded and even-tempered, but at the moment he felt as if he was about to explode. He kicked the side of the bed. "WAKE UP YOU BASTARD!"

The man sat up, groggily, and said, "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

"You have a thing for young girls, do you?" Marcus asked in disgust.

"What?" The man placed his feet on the floor and pointed toward the door, and shouted, "Get the hell out of my house before I call the police!"

"This is for Hermione Granger, and all the other little girls I'm sure you've hurt over the years. May you rot in hell!" Marcus said the words so evenly, that the man seemed amused at first. He even took the time to stand.

"What are you going to do to me, you fucking wanker?" George Fairgoer asked. He picked up his phone from the bedside table and touched only one number before he dropped the phone because of the force of Marcus' spell.

Marcus' wand arm rose. He said the incantation silently, but with intent. He wanted to Crucio the man. He wanted to Avada him, but he knew the Unforgivables could be traced. This spell was Dark Magic, darker than the Unforgivables perhaps, but untraceable, and as soon as Marcus leveled it at him, he knew it was the right choice.

The man crumbled to the floor by the bed. He grasped his head and started to cry and scream. Marcus was forced to removed the spell long enough to place a silencing spell to the room, before he pointed the wand at the man once more.

The man was crying and cowering on the floor. Pulling at the bedding, backing himself into a corner, he begged, pleaded, at an unknown entity to "STOP!"

Nevertheless, Marcus kept going. If he drove the man insane, it would be showing him pity. He wanted to drive the man to suicide if possible. All the anger he felt at himself, and this man, were wrapped up together, warped into one, and Marcus didn't know if he could stop.

Marcus wasn't aware there was anyone else in the room until he felt Hermione's hand on his arm. "STOP IT, MARCUS!" she screamed over the screams of Mr. Fairgoer. "THAT'S ENOUGH! PLEASE! THIS ISN'T YOU! You're too good for this! Don't stoop to his level! Stop, please, stop!" She was crying now. She gripped his arm with both of her hands.

He didn't stop until she slipped under his wand arm and grasped his face with both hands. "STOP!" she begged, pleaded, urged. "Please, please, stop. _I'm sorry_ I told you about this! I didn't want you to seek revenge, so stop!"

He lowered his arm. He took several deep, cleansing breaths. Hermione pulled on his arm, pulling him from the man's room. He looked back at the man once. He was on his side, on the floor, in a fetal position, moaning.

Once in the hallway, he begged, "Let me finish him. Let me do one thing right, one thing for you."

"You think I want you to kill someone for me?" she asked incredulously. "Haven't you done enough? Let's Apparate back to my parents' house. They'll be up soon."

"I have to leave," he responded, "because I have one more thing to do."

Hermione was crying hard now. She was so very tired of crying. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and she asked, "What, Marcus? What else could you _possibly_ have to do that you haven't already done?"

"I'm going to turn myself in, to the Ministry, for switching the names," he revealed.

She looked horrorstruck. "NO! To what purpose?" She grasped his arm and Disapparated them both back to her old bedroom. Once there, she said, "I found your things in the hallway and put them back in the guestroom. Please, don't leave like this!"

"How could you want me to stay after my lies?" he asked.

"Oh, Marcus." She didn't know what else to say. "I just don't want to explain things to my parents. I don't want to ruin my mother's birthday."

"So you want to continue the lie," he spat. "I can't do that now! I won't!"

"What about your mother? She's expecting us tomorrow! You don't want to tell her the truth yet, do you?" she urged.

"What does it matter?" He sat on the side of her bed, where hours ago they made love, and hung his head. For the first time since he was eight years old, Marcus Flint began to cry. "I wanted to be a better man for you, Hermione, but everything I did was wrong. Everything. I'm so very sorry. I know you don't believe it, but I am."

She got down on her knees and held his hand. "I don't know what you want from me. I feel so betrayed. I can't tell you it's alright, or that I forgive you, when I don't know if I do. I'm equally angry at Malfoy and Adrian and the Ministry, but I feel so deceived by you, Marcus. I feel almost like that little girl in that garage again, helpless and alone and utterly defeated."

"Oh, please don't say that," he pleaded.

"You're right. That was wrong of me, because you're nothing like that evil man next door, _I'm sorry_. This whole week has been a whirlwind and I'm exhausted. Please, let's get through this weekend and then we'll decide what we have to do. Don't do anything rash, not yet. Wait until Monday, and then we'll talk with Adrian and Draco. Please. Stay. _I'm sorry, too, you know_. I feel like it's all my fault, because of the formula not working."

He laughed, fell back on the bed, and covered his hands with his eyes. Great, he even got her to apologize to him, more than once. Which Commandment did he break with that one?


	17. Chapter 17

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 17 – A Reader said This ****Story**** is off in****_'I_****_-can-no-longer-suspend-my-disbelief-land". _****I Doubt that's a Compliment, but Thank You, I Guess**

"Where were you last night?"

Anna spun around in her chair and watched as Theo Nott walked toward her desk in the Office of Muggle Affairs early on a Friday morning after her dinner with Draco Malfoy at his house.

"Excuse me?" Anna asked. She had heard him, but she would feign ignorance for the time being.

"Last night? I told you I would see you home from Malfoy Manor, and when I searched for you, I couldn't find you, and then one of Malfoy's elves told me that you went on a dinner date with him."

Anna frowned. "I can assure you that I did not go on a dinner date with a house elf." She waited a full five seconds to see if Theo would smile at her joke.

He didn't. Instead, he gave her a stern warning with one word: "Anna!"

She laughed. "Okay fine, that was a lame joke, but seriously, I waited and waited for you on the back steps, and finally Draco came down and he told me that you had already left, and that's the truth. Then, I did have dinner with Draco, but it wasn't a dinner date or anything, and I didn't even leave the Manor."

"Where were you, because I assure you, Malfoy lied, as he often does, because I didn't leave and I did searched everywhere for you?" Theo asked.

Anna sighed. "Apparently not everywhere, or you would have found me. We went to this large dining room first. He took me to this enormous dining hall, where the table was at least a kilometer long. There were chandeliers on the ceilings the size of elephants, place setting with like fourteen forks and twenty-seven spoons, and after having a good laugh at my expense, because he told me that was the family dining room, he took me up to his wing and we ate up there."

"His wing?" Theo frowned. "Is something going on with you two?"

She shrugged.

He sat on the edge of her desk. "Listen, he's one of my best mates, but I have to tell you something we discovered last night. You're not really his perfect match. The magical match tests didn't work, and by this time Monday morning, everyone will know it."

She waved her hand in front of his face and stood. "Oh, I already know all about that. I overheard most of the story from you and the other blokes last night, and Draco actually explained the rest to me during dinner. He said he put Hermione Granger's name in his envelope, because he thought she would be a worthy wife for him, but that Marcus changed the results."

Theo gave her a sad smile and patted her arm. "Right, so you see, there's nothing really between you two, so you don't have to worry about things, okay?"

"What would I have to worry about, Theo? Anyway, I don't have my cap set on him, if that's what you think. My hopes aren't too high, my expectations aren't raised, I know that someone like him couldn't like someone like me in a million years, so don't worry about me. I'm fine. And, as I said, it wasn't a date. It was nothing more than two acquaintances enjoying a repast at the same time and the same place. Nothing more, nor will it ever be. "

When she finished her speech her chest was heaving slightly and she had a grim set to her mouth, her arms folded in front of her.

Theo thought she protested a bit TOO much. "I didn't mean to offend you," he relayed, "I just don't want to see you hurt. You're my friend, that's all."

"Yes, well, with friends like you, I'm in no need of enemies," she huffed and turned quickly to walk out of the office. She slammed right into Draco Malfoy, falling on the floor right at his feet.

Draco reached for her arms, but looked at Theo. "What did you say to her to upset her so?" He had heard the 'enemy' part of her sentence, but not the part before that.

Anna tried to slap Draco's hands away, to stand by herself, but he slapped at her hands as well. After hitting each other back and forth a few minutes, he huffed and walked behind her to heave her up with his hands under her armpits. She turned, pushed him away slightly, excused herself by saying, "_Gentlemen_, though I'm not sure that applies, but still, I'll see you both soon." And she left the room.

Draco watched her leave, and then turned to Theo. "Seriously, what did you say to her?" Draco asked, more confused than angry.

"What's your game?" Theo asked, instead of answering. "Don't play around with her emotions, okay? You know that after the weekend is over, by Monday morning, everyone will know that the Marriage Edict is going to be overturned, and that the tests were a sham, so please, don't play around with her. You don't even like her."

"That's what you know!" Draco barked in return. "We had a right, bloody blast last night at dinner. We ate up in my wing, talked about politics, books, Muggle movies, all sorts of things. She's very intelligent and quite a little smart arse in return, AND she made me laugh. Furthermore, she didn't take shite from me, which I appreciate. She also saw right through my flirting and flippant attitude, which surprised me. I would say I got along famously with her, so there. She's right, with friends like you, people don't need enemies!"

"And what of it?" Theo asked in return. "Is something going to come of it?"

"I don't know!" Draco returned. "It was effing dinner! Where's the harm?"

"I know you, Malfoy! I've known you since we were babes in arms! You don't have women for friends. You don't have women for dinner and not expect something in return! What you just explained to me wasn't your usual date, so I'll ask again, what are you planning with her? Don't lead her on! She's not a woman to be trifled with, or slept with and tossed to the curb!"

"For your information," Draco huffed, "I don't even know what you mean by trifling. I'm sure I've never trifled a woman, and if I did, they probably enjoyed it. Likewise, I've never tossed a woman to the curb in my life! I've always seen that they got home the next morning after I've slept with them, or if I'm at their place, I'm sure to leave them a note, or money, or something!"

"You disgust me!" Theo bit.

"You've always known my position on women…and under woman, and on to top of women! I like to have a good time, and I show them one in return! Again, I must ask, where's the harm? And none of this matters because nothing of the sort occurred between Anna and me," Draco shouted.

Theo shook his head in repulsion. "I could care less about your misogynic views, Malfoy. Did you, or Adrian, or any of you, ever think of what you were doing with these tests? Did you think of the people you would be hurting? I've become very fond of Astoria, and even though I thought it was odd that I got her, with us both being purebloods, I was secretly pleased, and we've become close, and now it will all be over!"

"Not necessarily!" Draco responded. "The test weren't completely accurate, but they weren't baseless. They still found a person's close magical match, and she was one of your matches, and I personally picked her for you. Hell, I almost picked her for myself!"

Theo felt like hitting him. "But don't you see, Draco? Come Monday, when you and Adrian go to the Minister, the Edict will probably be overturned, and even if the public isn't told the reason, most people won't want to abide by the results of the tests if it's not going to be a law anymore. You had no right! If you knew the tests didn't work, you should have said so, from the beginning!"

"Right, like that would have happened! I'm not some noble little Gryffindor!" Draco sneered.

Theo rushed up to him and pushed him to the wall. He banged into Anna's desk as he went, knocking a picture to the floor. With his hands on his friend's shoulders he said, "That's right, Malfoy! None of us are in school anymore! We aren't Gryffindors, Slytherins or Hufflepuffs! We are grown men and we know right from wrong! It was badly done, Malfoy, and I'm warning you to stay away from Anna, and frankly, for the time being, stay away from me."

He stormed out of the office.

Draco smoothed down his shirt, bent down, and picked up the picture that had been knocked to the floor. It was of Anna, and her late mother and father. She had mentioned last night how much she missed them since their deaths, and how lonely she was without them. She said she wished she had brothers or sisters or someone who understood how lonely she was. She smiled when she said she was happy that at least she had her friends. She also mentioned her regret that the law was going to be overturned, because she saw it as her only chance to marry, though Draco thought that was crazy.

Draco told her that he understood her loneliness, although his parents were alive, they were gone most of the time, and that he too was often lonely. He too was thankful for his friends. He wondered if he was about to lose all of them. Theo was upset, (more so now that he didn't want to be near Draco for the time being) Marcus and he had a gulf between them that may never close, because of the whole Granger thing. Blaise had been rather standoffish since the Marriage Edict was announced, and Adrian seemed disappointed in Draco, even though he was as culpable as Draco was.

Draco confided all of this to Anna last night. He had never confided his insecurities to another person before, not even when he was younger. He always kept all of his insecurities and fears inside, preferring to show the flippant, _never-do-well_, 'to hell with them', attitude to the rest of the world.

When he told her that he was lonely and afraid of losing his friends, he was afraid of what she might say to that admission. He assumed she would laugh at him, or make a joke. Instead, she smiled and said, "Cherish your parents while you can, and don't worry about your friends. They care for you, see you as you really are, and will always be there for you in the end, but I'll tell you what, perhaps, sometimes, when one of us are especially lonely, we can Floo or call the other, and talk. We can be each other's confidants. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

Draco thought it would be nice, too. He rubbed his thumb over the picture and placed it back on her desk. How dare Theo warn him against her? He knew she was different. He knew she was fragile and not the run-of-the-mill type of girl. He wasn't about to sleep with her and then toss her aside.

He wasn't about to offer her marriage either, was he? No. The law was bound to be overturned on Monday morning when he and Adrian visited the Minister, so there was no reason even to think about marriage to her.

Except…well…he picked the picture back up, looked at her smiling face, and watched as the Anna in the pictures waved. She would be a very pretty bride indeed. The Marriage Law might be Draco's only excuse to marry, just like Anna viewed it as her only _chance_ to marry. That thought gave him a moment to pause, and then he smiled as he left her office to find her, Theo's warning be damned.

Later that night, Marcus stood next to a small card table in the living room at the Granger's home. It was piled high with presents. There were probably forty to fifty Muggles milling around, some of them Hermione's relatives, some of them friends of the family, all of them there to celebrate Hermione's mother's birthday.

He picked up the ornately wrapped present that Hermione had placed on the table earlier. It was wrapped in plain cream paper, with a purple and sage bow. The card read, _"Love from Hermione and __Marcus__."_ She had included his name. Seeing his name linked with hers made his chest tight and his heart thump wildly in his chest. He had always wanted to be part of a couple, especially one that included her. Seeing his name on a card with hers made him profoundly happy and sad at the same time.

This whole day had been a strain. They had barely spoken, and when they did, it felt contrived and forced. They kept up the charade, for some odd reason, but Marcus was growing weary of it. He looked back down at the small table and thought about how he brought it in here earlier.

_"Where shall I put this table?" __Marcus__ had a folding table in his arms. He had just brought it up from the basement. He and Hermione had been so busy all day long, helping her mother and father get ready for her mother's 50th birthday party, that they hadn't had time to talk or reflect on the events of the night before._

_"That one can go in the den, I would think," __Mr.__Granger__ said. "We'll need it for the punch. Yes, the den."_

_Marcus__ started toward the den when __Mrs.__Granger__ said, "__Marcus__, dear, please put that in the living room. We'll need it in there for the presents."_

_Marcus started toward the living room, when Hermione walked past him and said, "I think that goes in the dining room. Mum wants a smaller table for the cake."_

_Marcus__ propped the table against the wall in the foyer and opened the front door and walked outside._

_Hermione's mother poked her head in the hallway and said, "What's wrong with him? Is he coming down with something?"_

_"Nevermind, Mum." Hermione placed her hand on her mother's arm and patted it twice then grabbed her and __Marcus__' coats from the hall tree and went out the front door after him. __Mrs.__Granger__ yelled at her husband to set the card table up in the living room for the presents._

_Marcus__ was leaning against a large, barren tree in the corner of the front yard. Hermione walked up behind him and handed him his coat. He took it, but didn't put it on. She placed her coat over her shoulders._

_"Are you alright?" she asked._

_He turned to her. "No. I feel as if I'm in limbo, waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. Hermione, I just can't do this. I can't keep pretending, even for you. I have to go. I'll talk to your parents, so you don't have to. I'll make up an excuse."_

_"Where will you go?" she asked. Hermione placed a hand on his arm. He felt her warmth through his layers of clothing and he savored it, for it might be the last warmth he would ever feel from her._

_"I think I'll go visit my mother, one day early," he answered. "I haven't seen her in a while. I don't go there very often."_

_"Please, stay with me now, and I'll go with you there tomorrow. I don't want you to have to explain things to your mother by yourself. Things don't have to be so bleak. They might yet work out in the end," she promised._

_"Really?" he asked sarcastically, pushing away from the tree, dropping his coat to the ground in the process. "Does that mean you want to continue the charade? You want to marry me?"_

_"I don't know," she said truthfully. "We have to wait and see what comes of the law. __Wait__, __Marcus__."_

_"I'm tired of waiting, Hermione! I feel like I've spent my whole life waiting for living to start! I'm tired or waiting!" _

Yet he waited. Studying the faces around him, he wondered how many of the couples here were happily married. How did they meet and fall in love? He watched Hermione as she spoke with her Uncle. Would she have ever given him a chance if it hadn't been for this law and the fact that he manipulated the findings? Would she still be engaged to Ron Weasley? They had been engaged forever. Perhaps she would have been happier with Weasley.

Marcus slipped out of the room and started for the stairs. Halfway up, he heard a voice. "Where are you going?"

Marcus turned to look at the person who addressed him. "Upstairs, obviously."

She laughed. "Yes, obviously. Aren't you having a good time?"

"No, I am, it's just, well, I feel out of sorts a bit, but it's nothing to do with the party or anything," he stammered.

Mrs. Granger walked up several steps, passing him, until she was standing higher than him. She placed a hand on his arm. "Don't worry about anything, Marcus. Things have a way to working out. As long as you love each other, other things will find a way. Lies and deceit are hard hurdles to overcome so early in a relationship, but if you don't let your pride get in the way, you'll get over the early hurt. You'll see. It'll be okay."

Marcus was stunned. Was Hermione's mother speaking specifically about him and Hermione, or was she being vague and assuming things? He wouldn't ask. He couldn't bring himself to do so. He nodded, thanked her, leaned over, kissed her cheek, and continued upstairs.

When he was out of earshot she said to herself, "Yep, he's definitely a keeper."

Hermione stood below in the foyer, looking up through the slats of the banister, and she agreed with her mother completely. Now she had to convince Marcus of that fact. Plus, she had one last confession of her own to make.

_(Chapter 17 tomorrow. I took some of this chapter from the last, and put some of the next chapter to it, so now I'm probably going to have an odd number of chapters, which bothers me more than bad reviews, for some reason.)_


	18. Chapter 18

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 18 – Kaboom!**

Waiting until her mother walked back down the stairs, Hermione slipped up the stairs and found Marcus sitting on the very top step, his long legs extended down two stairs. She sat beside him.

"Hi." She tucked her legs up to her chin and grasped her knees and asked, "Where were you heading?"

"The guestroom, to pack. Hermione, can we go to my mother's house tonight?"

"Why do you want to go tonight?"

"I guess I want to get everything over with and done," he conceded.

She laughed and asked, "Are you going to make Monday morning come faster?"

"Not without a time turner," he joked.

She laughed along with him, but soon their laughter ended and they were silent for a long stretch of time, when she finally interrupted the silence with, "I have an idea. We can leave right now, if you win best three out of five of any game of my choice."

He smiled slyly. "Hermione Granger and games…hmm…those two things don't usually go together in a sentence. I think I have an easy win at my fingertips here, if I do say so myself. Yes, we'll be heading toward the Flint family home tonight if I were to predict the outcome of these games."

"Hold on a moment, Mr. Flint, don't get all cocky on me. You don't know the game yet," she teased. "First, it's a Muggle game."

He moaned and extended his legs out, leaned back, and threw his arms over his head. "Say it isn't so! Not a Muggle game! How will I live with the horror?"

"Are you anti-Muggle?" she asked, teasingly.

"Anti-Muggle? Do you mean, am I prejudiced?" He raised one eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm so impressed, Marcus Flint learned a new word: 'Prejudice'. Yes, are you prejudiced?"

He pushed on her shoulder with his hand and said, "There's not a prejudice bone in my body, so bring it on, Granger. I know all sorts of Muggle games, and I doubt you could beat me at any of them. I know cricket, I know football, I know basketball, and for the more sedate people, I know checkers, chess, backgammon, and cribbage, as well as snooker."

Hermione laughed. "I don't even know how to play snooker. Isn't that's an old man's game? I think my grandfather played that. No, this is a game of skill and intellect, my dear Marcus, two things I fear you may be lacking." She practically sang the last part of her taunt.

"Oh, Granger, you are so going to lose. I'm going to beat you so badly that I'll have to sweep you up from the ground with one of those Muggle vacuum cleaners. What is this game of intellect, my dear little smart, Muggle-born?"

Right then, they had to lean away from each other, with Marcus even having to go so far as to stand up, as a man walked past them to head toward the upstairs toilet. Hermione stood as well, and grabbed his hand and pulled him into her parents' room, which was the first room down the hall. The bed in this room was littered with all of the guests' coats, so she moved them aside, sat down, and patted the place next to her.

He sat down and asked, "Is this a sitting down, intellectual game?"

"It can be," she explained. "Now, it's very easy. It's called Rock, Paper, and Scissors. You make a fist, like this..." She took his right hand in both of hers and smashed it together to make a fist. "Then you pump your hands up and down to the count of three, and on three, you make your hand into either a rock, _(she demonstrated by keeping her hand a fist)_, a piece of paper, or parchment for our wizard friends out there, _(she flattened her hand)_ or a pair of scissors." And again, she demonstrated, mimicking a pair of scissors with her hand.

He glared at her as if she had two heads. "This is what you call an intellectual game?"

She giggled and said, "Yes, now pay attention. Rock beats scissors, because a rock can break a pair of scissors, paper beats rock, because it can cover a rock and scissors beat paper, because it can cut it, get it?"

He burst out laughing, so hard, that he almost slipped from the bed, and he replied, "Not in the least. What a terrible, terrible game poor little Muggle children are forced to play! I feel so sorry for them!"

She slapped him on the arm and with real indignation said, "NO! It's fun! You'll see! Now, the way my mean cousin Alvin played, if you scored a point, you would have to wet two fingers with your mouth and then you'd smack the other person's wrist as hard as you could with your wet fingers, but I always found that degrading and unhygienic, plus it sort of stings. We'll just keep score. The first person to win three out of five wins. If you win, we'll leave tonight. If I win, we'll stay until morning."

"Show me how Alvin kept score," Marcus insisted. He could barely keep a smile from his face. He liked that they were having fun, and that they could momentarily forget about his lies and their problems. She pulled his arm into her lap. He felt dazed, and a tingling sensation where her fingers were pushing his shirtsleeve up toward his elbow.

Then out of the blue, she licked her forefinger and middle finger, and she smacked them very hard against his wrist.

"Hey!" he shouted, pulling his wrist toward his chest. "That did sting."

"Exactly," she agreed, wiping her wet fingers on HIS trousers.

"I like it. Let's keep score that way," he decided. He pushed up the other sleeve. She rolled her eyes, but complied and pushed up her sleeves as well.

"Fine, let's be all cavemen about it and resort to violence. But, do you understand the game, right?" she asked.

"It's not complicated, Hermione. I know I'm not a genius like you, and people usually believe that athletics like me have sawdust in our brains, but I have a few brain cells in there as well. Even a caveman could play this game with a modicum of understanding."

She made a funny face and teased, "I'm so impressed, Marcus knows another big word…modicum. Can you spell it?" She smiled at him sweetly.

"I can not only spell it, but I can show you a modicum of respect right now by not calling you all the names that are right on the tip of my tongue," he leveled.

"Call me one of them. I deserve it," she resigned. She waited.

Instead, he smiled, and said, "Let's play, sweetheart."

She liked that he called her 'sweetheart'. She didn't usually like that sort of thing, because whenever Ron would call her that, he said it condescendingly, and while she knew that Marcus did it 'jokingly', because they were taunting and teasing one another, but she still liked it. A lot.

She said, "Fine, but before we start, you remember which beats which, right? Rock beats scissors, scissors beats paper…" before she could continue he placed a hand over her mouth.

"Seriously, Granger, and paper beats rock. I know, I know. You really do think I'm an idiot, don't you?"

She bit his finger. He yelped in pain and while he was shaking his hand she said, "No, I think you're a man, and like most men, you don't pay close attention to instructions. And remember, we keep our hand in a fist until the count of three, right? We don't wait after the three, but right on the count of three."

He threw his entire body backwards, landing on a bunch of coats, and he scoffed, "Hermione Granger, are you trying to get me to fall asleep from sheer boredom, hence get your way and we have to stay here tonight?"

She leaned over and placed a hand on his stomach. He clenched his stomach muscles at her touch. Placing a hand over hers, he watched as she leaned over him and smiled. "I don't want you to complain later that I cheated or didn't explain the rules to you, that's all."

He placed his free hand up to her face and glared up into her brown eyes, where he saw only warmth and kindness. He suddenly wondered what she would do come Monday. Would she leave him? Would she force him to play, 'rock, paper, and scissors', to see if they should wed? He sat up, pushed her hand from his body, and declared, "Let's get this started, sweetheart, so I can declare victory."

Hermione kicked off her shoes and sat with her legs folded under her on the bed. Marcus scooted some of the coats to the side and tilted his body to face her. "Who counts?" he asked.

"You can go first. Wait, you can count that high, can't you?" she asked, with doe-eyed innocence.

"You are so going to lose, Hermione Granger!" He reached toward her, made her right hand into a fist for her, fisted his right hand, and said, "Ready? One – Two – Three!"

Marcus kept his hand as a fist, so he made a rock. Hermione flattened her hand from the fist, so she made a piece of paper. She bounced up and down on the bed and said, "I won the first one! It's common knowledge that more than 80 percent of all people make a rock on the first go round, so I knew you would probably make a rock. Ha!"

He smirked at her but then extended his wrist to her. "Go on, claim your point."

"Do you really mean for me to smack your wrist with my wet fingers, because I think that's a bit, you know, icky?" she explained.

"You already did it once, and geesh, after what we did last night, how icky could it be, but fine, do something less icky. Kiss me instead," he said off the cuff.

She shrugged and leaned over and kissed his cheek, then said, "I have one point. Let's go again! I'll count this time." They both fisted their hands and she counted, "One, Two, Three." She made a pair of scissors and he made a piece of paper. She jumped up and down, full of joy.

"I won again! I won, I won, I won!" She grabbed his shoulders and kissed his other cheek. "You are so woefully under-qualified to play this game, Flint. As I said, It's a thinking person's game," she teased, touching the side of her head with one finger.

"Fine! Think about this," and he pushed on her shoulder so hard that she fell off the side of the bed.

He leaned over the side and looked down at her on the floor and laughed. "I swear, I didn't know you would fall off the bed," he claimed.

"Whatever!" she said in mock annoyance, coming to sit back on the bed. "I should have known you would resort to caveman like tactics, such as pushing me off the bed. I understand you can't help yourself." She straightened her blouse, tucked her legs back under her and said, "You count this time."

"Best three out of five, agreed?" he confirmed.

"Agreed," she said, flipping her hair off her shoulder.

He counted, "One, Two, Three," and this time he made a piece of paper again and she made a rock. She frowned. "I think that frown means I have a point, sweetheart!"

"I thought since you already made a rock and a paper, you would make a scissor this time," she reasoned.

He cocked one eyebrow in the air and said, "So much for THINKING, Granger. Give me your cheek." He crooked his finger toward himself.

"Come get it," she argued, pointing her cheek toward him.

He shrugged, leaned forward on the bed, slipped his hand on her face, moved it toward him so that she faced him, and kissed her lips lightly. Who wanted to kiss her cheek anyway? "Two points for you, one for me, Missy. Let's go. I'll count again. One, Two, Three."

Hermione made a piece of paper and he made a pair of scissors. She leaned backwards, kicked her legs and said, "NO! You must be cheating now!"

"At rock, paper, scissors?" he asked. "How would one cheat at this game?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and said, "Fine, you get another point, but you'll have to come get your kiss again."

Fine, he liked having to 'come and get' his kiss, in her words. He braced himself up on one arm, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. Leaning back he said, "This is the last one, Hermione. If I win, we leave tonight. If you win, we stay." Frankly, he didn't care which they did now. He was enjoying his time with her. These little moments, and other moments like them, were the reasons why he had fallen in love with her.

"Okay, I'll count this time," she began, "One, Two, Three!" She held her hand out in a fist. She had made a Rock.

He held his hand out in a fist. He had also made a rock.

She frowned slightly, a fake frown, and said, "Ah, too bad, it's a tie."

Suddenly, he let his thumb pop out of his fist, and then he shouted, "KABOOM!" He jumped on her, and the bed, threw the coats all around, rolled around the bed with her, tossing her to and fro. When it was all over, he was on his back; she was on his chest, looking down at him.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" she asked, laughing loudly. She pulled a strangers coat off her head.

"That my dear, was a Muggle bomb. My thumb was the fuse. I believe bombs beat rocks, so I win!"

She giggled. "I can't argue with that logic. Do you want your kiss now or later?" she asked, her hand splaying across his chest.

"Now."

Hermione traced around his mouth with her finger and stated, "You have a beautiful mouth, you know. Your eyes are beautiful, your nose is beautiful, but your mouth is exceptionally beautiful."

"Beautiful?" he asked, amused. He reached up and stroked her hair away from her face. "Not once in my life have I ever been called beautiful."

"Well you are. You're beautiful," she whispered back. She was filled with such longing for this man. He embodied everything that she could ever want in a partner, and she wasn't going to question anything tonight. Tonight, or rather, right now, she was going to kiss him. "I'm going to kiss you now," she announced and he smiled. She met his searching eyes and again touched the edge of his mouth with her finger, before she leaned over his chest.

Her hand went from his face up into his short, dark hair. Her lips touched his, and they felt like silk and velvet. They were cool and sweet and he returned her kiss with such gentleness that her heart overflowed with love. She took her time, tasting him, coaxing him, turning this kiss into something she could remember him by, in case things got so out of hand that they had to part and his kiss was the only thing she would have to remember.

Although, that was silly. She would remember so much more. How could she forget the way they made love last night? How could she forget the way he protected her from Mr. Fairgoer, or avenged her, or all the other times he had protected her, or guided her, or been beside her?

How could she forget the way his eyes lit up when he was telling her about the plants and animals in the enchanted woods of Malfoy Manor? How could she forget the way his hands were moving right now, over her back, down her spine, across her bum, pressing her tightly against him?

Marcus pushed her slightly from him, looked deeply in her eyes, saw a flare of something familiar there, and then pulled her back. The kiss became searing and branding hot. He thought that there was something more intimate about this moment than the moment they shared last night when they made love, but then again, there were no longer lies between them, _or so he thought_. His hand clamped on the back of her neck and he moved his mouth from hers to her ear and said, "We should stop."

"I don't want to," she said in return, her mouth trying to find his again.

"But I think someone wants to find their coat," Marcus replied.

He pushed her away, sat her up, and sat up as well. A woman stood over them, embarrassed, and pointed as she said, "It's the red coat, right underneath you, right there."

"Oh, sorry," Hermione waned. Her face was as red as the woman's coat, with embarrassment, as she scrambled from the bed and held the woman's coat out to her. "It's a very pretty coat," Hermione added.

"Yes," Marcus agreed, as he too stood. "I like the fur collar. It's very brown and furry."

Hermione looked at him funny and hid her grin behind her hand.

"It's faux fur," the woman said.

Marcus helped her put her coat on and said, "Faux? Oh, well, I still like it." Hermione turned her body from the pair and continued to laugh quietly.

Once they were again alone, Hermione said, "You're incorrigible."

"You're the one who laughed at the woman's poor fake fur collar," Marcus bemoaned.

She grabbed his hand and quizzed, "Should we tell Mum and Dad goodbye and grab our things to head to your mother's house? We could Apparate, instead of driving back to London. We can park the car behind the garage, and I'll get it some time later."

Suddenly, he didn't want to go there anymore. The thought of facing his mother left him with dread. Sensing this, she said, "Or whatever you want."

"No, I won the game, let's go." He couldn't continue to put off unpleasant things. He needed to get all of his lies out in the open, and for some reason, even though he had never told Hermione a single thing about his mother, or his mother a single thing about Hermione, he still felt as if there was a giant 'LIE' between all of them.

They told her parents goodbye, grabbed their luggage, parked her car behind the garage, and then from her backyard, they Disapparated away.

They appeared on a stone patio outside of a large, grey-stoned mansion. Marcus smiled at her weakly as they walked to the large front doors. He tapped them with his wand and the doors opened for them. Walking inside, Hermione felt as if they had stepped into a museum, or a mausoleum. The place was large, cavernous, and appeared almost empty. It was quiet, and somewhat eerie and ominous. She didn't like it, and she couldn't imagine Marcus growing up at this house.

Suddenly, a little old elf, reminiscent of Kreacher, walked down a wide staircase toward them. "Master Marcus," the little elf greeted, lowering his large head almost to the floor by their feet. "We are honoured to have you here, Sir."

"Hello Tiggy," Marcus said, smiling at Hermione somewhat apologetically. He leaned toward her and said, "I told you my mother still had elves, remember?"

"Yes, that's fine, don't worry," she regarded, placing her hand on his arm.

"How is my mother this evening?" Marcus asked. "If she's not up to receiving visitors, or if it's too late and she's already in bed, We'll see her tomorrow."

"No, no, Master Marcus, I think it would be good for her to see you. She's not having a good day, no, not at all," the little elf proclaimed. He started up the stairs, and Marcus started to follow. He looked back and reached out his hand for Hermione. She clasped his hand.

They walked down a long, dark hallway. "There's barely any light in here," Hermione whispered.

"Light hurts her eyes," Marcus declared.

They walked down a long hallway. There weren't any paintings or portraits on the walls. There were no furnishings or rugs. "It seems so bare. Is she in the process of moving?"

Marcus looked back at her and said, "No. All her familiar things are in her room."

Hermione didn't comment. She didn't know what to say to that statement. They stood outside a set of oak, double doors, and the little elf said, "Let me see if you may enter, Master."

The elf entered first and a short time later he said, "Please, come in Master, and Master's guest."

Marcus led the way into the room, still holding tightly onto Hermione's hand. There, in an orange, wingback chair by the fireplace was a small woman with grayish hair. She looked older than Hermione assumed his mother would be, but she was still very beautiful.

This room was different than the rest of the house. It was 'overly crowded'. It looked almost as if half of the contents of the house were inside this one large room.

Hermione noticed that the woman was being tended by another elf, a female. Marcus approached them, leaving Hermione by the door. The woman lifted her face toward him.

"Hello, Mother. It's Marcus. I've brought someone to meet you," he said slowly, leaning down toward the ill-looking woman, and enunciating each word clearly.

"What?" the woman asked.

"I've brought someone for you to meet, Mother," he repeated. He rose back up to his full height and held out his hand toward Hermione.

Hermione walked to him, and leaned toward the frail woman in the chair, but before she could introduce herself, the woman asked, "Who are you?"

The statement, _"I'm your son's fiancée,"_ was about to leave Hermione's lips as she was on the verge of introducing herself, starting with her name. However, her voice halted when she noticed that the woman was looking right at Marcus, not at her. Marcus sighed, leaned down again and said, "I'm your son, Marcus, Mother. That's alright if you don't remember, don't fret or worry." He stood back up and looked at Hermione and he tried to smile, but it came out sad and strained.

Hermione smiled back and she suddenly understood WHY he hadn't yet told his mother about their engagement. She had a feeling that Marcus wasn't able to tell his mother very much at all.


	19. Chapter 19

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 19 – Whoever came up with the ****Maxim**** that 'Honesty is the Best Policy' was Delusional and Probably a Liar at That**

Hermione left Marcus alone with his mother. He didn't ask her to do so, but she felt it was the right decision. She asked the little elf named Tiggy to show her to a guestroom.

The elf started down the hallway, pulling Hermione's suitcase behind him, mumbling the entire time, "Nice to see Master Marcus again so soon. Mistress not herself these days, not at all. Master Marcus' guest is always welcome here. We love Master Marcus, we do."

Hermione didn't interfere with the ramblings of the small elf. She merely let him speak. They reached a doorway at the end of the hallway and the elf said, "This is the only room that is ready for company, Missy. It is Master Marcus' old bedchamber. Is that acceptable with you?"

Hermione nodded. She walked in after the elf and noticed that unlike the rest of the house, this room was fully furnished and decorated. It still held many things from Marcus' childhood: a Quidditch trophy, a Slytherin flag on the wall, old textbooks from school, and a single bed. Hermione wondered how she and Marcus would both manage to sleep in a single bed. She would have to transfigure it into at least a double bed later.

She turned to ask the elf where the bathroom was located, but the elf was already gone. Hermione left the room and traced her steps back down the hallway. She opened several doors and found large empty bedchambers, devoid of everything but dust, and probably memories.

Why was this house so empty?

She walked past Mrs. Flint's room again, the door was ajar, and curiosity being one of her weaknesses, she stopped by the partially opened door to peer inside.

Marcus was speaking to his mother in hushed tones, but the woman didn't seem to be listening. She was now in her high canopy bed. The little female elf was busy in the corner of the room, mixing some sort of potion. Marcus sat on the side of the bed, held his mother hand, and persisted onward.

Hermione strained to listen. "…and now we're betrothed, Mother. I think you'd like her, even if she is Muggle-born. She's very smart, very pretty, and courageous. She helped to defeat the Dark Lord. I'm very proud of her. She's the most truthful person I've ever met, hence the crux of my problem. Her honesty, and my lack thereof, is going to be my downfall, and I desperately don't want to lose her. I don't know what I'll do if I do."

His mother looked up at him and said, "You're such a handsome man. Have I met you before?"

Marcus ignored the question and continued to talk. "You see, Mother, I did something awful, and I'm afraid that now she won't want to marry me. You see, she developed the tests that were used to create the Marriage Edict that I told you about the last time I was here, although, you probably don't recall."

"But, her tests didn't quite work. The Ministry knew this, but they hid that from everyone. Then, Draco Malfoy, you know, Lucius Malfoy's son, his company compiled the results for the tests, but they couldn't recreate accurate results either. They could only come up with a list of matches, not one perfect match."

"So Malfoy took it upon himself to pick a name for everyone, well, not everyone, as he left some to chance, but for his friends, he picked their matches. You see, he picked Hermione for himself."

Hermione wondered why Marcus was confessing everything to his mother, as it seemed she wasn't capable of understanding. He had already confessed to Hermione, so why confess again? Was his conscious bothering him that much?

Then she realized that perhaps he was confessing _his lies_ to _his mother_ for the same reason that she had confessed _her lies_ to _her mother_ this morning. That was why her mother cryptically told Marcus on the steps this evening, _"As long as you love each other, other things will find a way. Lies and deceit are hard hurdles to overcome so early in a relationship, but if you don't let your pride get in the way, you'll get over the early hurt." _

Hermione knew at the time that Marcus assumed that Mrs. Granger was referring to HIS lies and deceit, since he was still in the dark regarding Hermione's lies. Suddenly, flooded with shame and embarrassment, she felt a direr need to confess everything to him.

She ducked away from the door, held her hand to her mouth to keep herself from confessing in the heat of the moment. She recovered quickly so she could finish listening.

"…so that's when Adrian devised the plan that I should go in and change the names. He said he knew before I did that I loved her, although that's not true. I've loved her for a long time, and I've known it, I've just been too afraid to admit it. I changed the envelopes. Of course, no one knew Malfoy played with the results in the beginning, which meant we couldn't predict that he would know that we, I mean, that I, changed the names in the envelopes."

"Now it's all about to unravel. Malfoy's furious, and he's going to go to the Ministry on Monday and reveal all he knows. Adrian and Malfoy claim they'll distort the story enough so that none of us face jail time, but I could care less about that." He paused, and then leaned over and placed his head in his mother's lap.

The older woman placed a hand on his head and stroked his hair. He finished, "I just don't want to lose her, but I'm afraid once she's given time to consider everything, she'll feel so hurt and betrayed that she'll never forgive us. Not her. Not someone who values honesty and truthfulness above all else. Integrity is her best trait. I'm not certain that she's ever lied about anything."

"Also, I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't want her to meet you, especially after I told her the truth last night, because I didn't want her to stay with me out of a sense of pity. That would kill me."

Hermione rushed quietly past the door, back to Marcus' room and closed that door. She sat on the bed, numbly, to think about all that she had just overheard. Marcus was giving her too much credit in one sense, and yet not enough credit in another, and she didn't know how to respond to that.

Back in Mrs. Flint's room, Marcus lifted his head, took his mother's hand from his hair, clenched it in his, and then brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "You don't even have any idea what I just said to you, do you, Mother?"

"You're my son, Marcus," she said, with a faint understanding.

He smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am. I'm your son, Marcus, and I love you very much."

Back in Marcus' childhood bedroom, Hermione stood back up and started back toward the hallway, to find Marcus. She encountered the male elf instead.

"Did Missy need something?" he asked.

She still needed the bathroom, so she asked, "Where is the bathroom?"

"It is two doors down from the Mistress' bedroom, Missy." The elf bowed lowly and started back down the hallway.

"Tiggy?" Hermione called after him.

The elf turned and looked at her.

"Why is this house practically empty? It's so large, yet there's almost no furnishings downstairs, and all the bedrooms, save for the master bedroom and Marcus' old room are empty as well."

The elf looked down the hallway, as if to see if anyone would hear his answer, before he spoke. "You see, Master Marcus' father, the former Master Flint, left the family next to broke, he did. Squandered away millions of galleons, giving it all to the Dark Lord, and gambling away the rest, and never told a soul."

"He lied to his wife and son for years and told them that they still had plenty of money, but they didn't. After he died, Master Marcus had to pay back most of what the former Master owed. He made many galleons playing professional Quidditch, but it all went to paying back his father's debts."

"Yes, it was a dishonorable thing for the former Master to live with such lies and deceit. It hurt his family very much, Missy, very, very much. Lies and deceit are awful, awful things. Then, Master Marcus didn't have as much money, because he had to stop playing professional Quidditch, he did, to take care of his mother. He took a job he doesn't even like at the Ministry, because his mother needed him closer."

"Is that why he had to sell the contents of the house?" she prodded.

He nodded. "Master Marcus has had to sell most of the families' belongings to take care of his mother, too, and for the upkeep of this manor. He's a good son, and a good Master, Missy. I shouldn't tell you this, but he's already sold this house as well."

"Sold this house?" she asked, gesturing with her hands. "But hasn't it been in the Flint family for generations?"

"Yes, Missy, for hundreds of years, but it can't be helped, he said. He said he doesn't want the bad memories that come with the house, so I don't think he regrets it. I don't at all. He sold it to a Master Zabini, a long time friend. Master Zabini is good enough to allow us last two elves to remain here after Mistress dies, and he has also allowed Master Marcus' mother to continue to live here until the end," Tiggy explained.

"Is she very ill?" Hermione inquired. She felt she already knew the answer.

The elf nodded and frowned. "Very, very ill. She doesn't remember anything, most days. Other days, she only remembers things from her past. She can't get up and walk. She used to love to walk in her garden. She loved the outside. Master Marcus got his love of the outdoors from his mother."

"She gets very upset and agitated if her special possessions aren't around her, so that is why her bedroom has so many of her belongings. Her things used to help her to remember; now they only help her to stay calm. She's in bed most of the time, she is. Very, very sad."

"Has she seen a healer?"

"Many healers, Missy. The healers say that she might not live long, which is just as well, it is," the elf answered. "Master Marcus has made sure she has seen all the best healers. Sometimes, some things can't be healed, Missy." The elf bowed again and turned to walk away.

Hermione hurried to the bathroom, making sure she didn't impede on Marcus and his mother's privacy this time. Besides, she had many things to consider, the most being her own lies and how she would tell them to him without shattering his feelings for her.

**Elsewhere:**

Anna started out her front door, preoccupied, so she didn't notice a man standing in the shadows, by her yew hedge. Her chocolate lab, Heathcliff, needed a walk desperately, even though it was terribly late, so she struggled with his leash in one hand, and lifted her mail flap on her postal box next to her door, to check for her mail, with the other. Noticing nothing but bills and advertisements, she threw them in the still opened door. As she did, one of her cats, Ivan, tried to escape. She nudged him back into the door with her foot, and then slammed the door shut tight. She placed the loop of the dog's leash around her wrist, and then locked her door with her wand. Though she lived in a Muggle neighborhood, she always used magic to lock her door. After all, she lived alone, and one could never be too careful.

Heathcliff was anxious to start their walk, or so she assumed, because he began to bark and jump up and down. She pulled on his leash. "Hush, Heathcliff! You're going to wake the whole neighborhood!"

She started down her front steps, the dog still pulling the leash, when suddenly he pulled the leash right out of her hand. He ran around the hedge, and she frantically followed, calling his name.

When she got to the other side of the hedge, she found her dog on the chest of a man lying on the ground. She pulled out her wand, not caring if it was a Muggle or not, merely hoping the darkness of the night would hide it from the man's view, and she shouted, "Heathcliffe! NO!"

Still uncertain if she would have to hex her dog or the man, she tried to pull Heathcliff by his collar.

"Get this deranged mongrel off me!" the man yelped.

"I'm trying to!" Anna yelled in return. She placed her foot on the leash as it lay on the sidewalk, stooped down to pick it up, and pulled with all her might, managing to maneuver her dog off the man's chest. He dusted off his jacket and started to sit upright.

She fell backwards into the yew hedge, as the leash once again slipped from her fingers, and the dog jumped back on the man just as he began to stand, knocking him back on the ground, hard, on his backside.

"Goodness, McAllister, get this beast off me!"

That was when Anna knew, with extreme mortification, that her dog had knocked Draco Malfoy on his bum, not once, but twice.

Anna couldn't even get out of the hedge, let alone get her dog. She struggled, the brambles and branches cutting into her skin, even tearing her clothing. One sharp branch stung her cheek and she yelped in pain.

Draco had the dog by the collar, but looked up as he heard her outburst of pain. He pushed the dog away and said, "Get away, you cur!" and then he crawled over to where Anna was stuck in the hedge.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Ignoring his question, she asked, "Why are you sneaking around my hedge?"

He cocked his head to the side and said, "A better question would be, why are you stuck inside your hedge?" She continued to struggle, and cry out, and he finished with, "Just stay still!" He pulled out his wand.

"Don't pull that out! I live in a Muggle neighborhood, and I work in the office of Muggle Affairs. I could fine you!" she barked.

He stood, brushed off his trousers, (with his wand in his hand the entire time, thank you) and said, "Bit of a hypocrite, aren't we, Anna my sweet. You had your wand out."

"I thought you were a madman! I thought I might have to defend myself, or protect you from my dog!" she mumbled. She stopped struggling and sat still with a pained expression on her face.

"Which is it? Did you have your wand out to hex me, or protect me?" He smirked and placed his hands on his hips.

"Shut up," she answered, adding, "and ouch."

"My, you're so eloquent," he parried back. "Now, that does look painful. Shall I help you?" When she didn't answer right away, he looked down at her dog, which now stood by his side, placidly watching the scene in front of him, and addressing the dog, Draco said, "I think we should leave her there, how about you?"

"Just help me out of here, Malfoy!" she pleaded.

He used his wand to extract her from the offending bushes, and once she stood beside him, he reached up with his hand and started to remove pieces of branches, red berries, and pine needles from her hair and off her coat and jumper.

When he reached for a piece that was over her right breast, she slapped his hand.

Grabbing her dog's leash, she went back toward her front door. "Looks like our walk is ruined, Heathcliff. You'll have to be happy with the back garden for a little while."

Without invitation, Draco followed her inside the house. She was aware, as she felt his presence strongly, although she didn't protest. She walked through the living room and kitchen and ushered her dog outside the backdoor. Once in the kitchen, she removed her coat, threw it over a chair, and opened a cabinet above the sink in search of plasters and peroxide.

He stood right behind her. Without turning around, she washed her hands and said, "Why are you lurking in my bushes? I asked you once, and you didn't answer."

"I wasn't really lurking," he countered. "It was more like I was waiting and thinking about some things."

She turned to face him, frowning at his admission, waiting for further explanation, a plaster in one hand, and a cotton swab in the other. He reached out and took the cotton swab from her. His fingers grazed hers as he did, causing her to feel slightly dazed by the brief contact. He threw it over his shoulder, then took the plaster and did the same.

"I needed those!" she complained. He stepped closer. She stepped back, until her backside encountered the edge of her cabinet. A cat jumped up on the cabinet and mewed loudly.

Draco looked at the cat and said, "I agree, she is a bit feisty, isn't she?" He leaned closer to her, his body transferring heat to hers without even touching her. Then, he leaned toward her sink, grabbed a cloth, turned on the water, and wetted it. All the while, his body leaned closer and closer until his body touched hers intimately. He hardly leaned away when he took the cloth and moved it gently against the most offensive of her lacerations, the one across her cheek.

"Draco?" she asked, "What were you contemplating in the bushes?"

"Sh," he hushed. He threw the cloth back in the sink. His face was EXTREMELY close to hers.

"I think the cotton swab and the peroxide would have been more hygienic than my kitchen towel," she went on.

"Sh," he said again. He puckered his lips and blew on her cheek, to dry it from where he cleaned it with the wet cloth.

She wanted to melt like butter at his feet. He pressed his wand against her cheek lightly, said a healing spell, and then removed it and said, "Now it won't scar your beautiful face."

She rolled her eyes and said, "Right, beautiful." She knew his game. He was trying to flirt with her by offering her false flattery, and by stalking her, apparently. "Tell me why you're here."

He reached back up to her hair and removed one last small stem. Showing it to her, he tossed it with the cotton swab and plaster and he urged, "Does anything else need healed?"

"I can take care of the rest," she replied. A second cat jumped beside the first one on the cabinet by Anna's shoulder and stretched.

He eyed them carefully. "How many damn animals do you have?"

"More than you'd like to know," was her answer. "Seriously, please tell me why you're here." Without thought, she placed a hand upon his chest.

He looked down at her hand and said, "I was trying to decide if I should kiss you, that's all." He looked back into her eyes, lowered his head toward hers, as a third cat wound its body around his legs. He glanced down at it, then back up into her eyes, and said, "At least, I will if your damn animals will let me."

He lowered his head again, letting his arms wound around her lightly. She pushed at his chest and said, "Wait a moment, please…"

* * *

_A/N: I decided to take some of the next chapter, and add some Anna/Draco interaction in it, that way I can stretch the story so I have 22 chapters, instead of the 'evil' odd number of 21. (HA!) Although, I went back and counted, and out of the 43 HP fanfictions that I've written, 13 of them have had odd number chapters. An odd number of stories, with odd number of chapters, and a classic 'unlucky' number at that, so perhaps I should leave this story at 21 chapters. Oh well. My __OCD'ness__ doesn't need to be a worry to any of you. (Seriously, my daughter really does have severe OCD, but I feel many people have it to some degree, don't you? Maybe __Draco__ has OCD and has to be a prat in all my stories. Hmmm.)_


	20. Chapter 20

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 20 – It Took a Long Time to Post this Due to Author's Double Pneumonia _(Or Originally known as "Hermione and Draco no Longer Care whose Names were in Their Envelopes")_**

Draco Malfoy had just asked Anna how many animals she had, not that he actually cared. Truthfully, he was stalling._ Truthfully,_ what he wanted to do was to kiss her, but Draco Malfoy rarely did anything truthfully.

She answered his animal question with some sort of witticism, although he didn't hear what she said, but he did notice when her hand came to rest on his chest and she asked, "Seriously, please tell me why you're here."

He looked down at Anna's hand as it rested on his chest and they stood in her kitchen, late on a Saturday night, and he realized that she was a virtual stranger to him. In addition, she wasn't the type of woman that he usually dated. Moreover, he wasn't interested in anything, long term anyway, Marriage Edict be damned, but TRUTHFULLY none of that mattered one whit to him.

He would answer her, TRUTHFULLY, as hard as that might be for him. He said, "I was trying to decide if I should kiss you, that's all." He looked back into her eyes, lowered his head toward hers, as a third cat twirled its body around his legs. He glanced down at it, then back up into her eyes, and said, "At least, I will if your damn animals will let me."

He lowered his head again, letting his arms curled around her lightly. She pushed at his chest and said, "Wait a moment, please…"

"I don't think I can," he answered, again honestly. "Because, I've come to a sort of conclusion, one might even justify it by calling it an epiphany. I don't care whose name was in that envelope. I don't care if the Marriage law tests were flawed. I don't think I want to overthrow the law any longer. There. I've told the truth for once in my life, and I didn't even burst into flames. Imagine that."

He bowed his arms around her, kicked the cat off his leg lightly, and pulled her tightly into an embrace. She seemed surprised, but she didn't resist. Instead, her body seemed to soften next to his.

Then he lowered his head, as he had so many times with so many women, and with so many kisses, and he half-expected the exact same thing.

And to expect the same thing with this woman would have made him a fool, and Draco Malfoy was no fool.

This was no ordinary kiss. This kiss was tentative, curious, warm, and artless, everything he ever expected a first kiss with someone like her to be, and she gave it all back to him as he gave it to her. Everything he needed to know of how she felt about the kiss was in her response, which was pliant and breathless, complete, and utter amazement.

The kiss lasted one second, then two, then three, and then it went on and on from there. Usually with women, he took what he wanted and didn't care what they needed. With this woman, he found that he was waiting for her response, her sigh, the way she would lean into his body, the hardening of her breasts against his chest, the movement of her hands from his chest to around his neck, so he could tell what he needed to do next.

He didn't want to disappoint her, and she sure as hell didn't disappoint him. She showed him exactly how she felt, and he returned it in kind.

The way her mouth moved against his, her tongue gliding against the roof of his mouth, the way she swallowed his moan…all of it lured him in and he gave her more. The kiss was no longer a gentle, sweet first kiss. It was now a kiss of a man hungry with passion, denied desire, and who needed sated. He enticed her with such simple pleasures as gentle caresses and fondling that he found it hard to restrain himself to maintain a simple kiss, but he didn't want to scare her away the first time. Therefore, he reigned in the usual 'Draco Malfoy' kiss and gave her something entirely different, and in the process, he gave himself something different as well. He gave himself hope that there might be something more after this kiss…something lasting, something giving, and something forever.

He was afraid to move his mouth from hers (in case she finally came to her senses), even though he had an undeniable urge to seek the long pulse of her neck, the gentle slope of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. He pictured doing that and so much more to her, as his mouth continued to ravish hers. Finally, she pushed him away with a power unknown to mortal men, and he submitted, only just.

They stood and stared at each other in shocked, joint, desirable aplomb. She clutched the material of his jacket in her fists. He held one hand at the back of her neck, the other still held onto her forearm.

Finally, she said, "I lied to you the other day about how many animals I had. I'm sorry, I should never have lied. I have two dogs and five cats and a parakeet named Ringo."

All he could think was, _'Well, all right then.'_

* * *

Hermione tried to stay awake to wait for Marcus, but as midnight turned to one in the morning, then one-thirty, she finally dressed for bed, climbed under the covers and closed her eyes. She had just started to doze when he entered the room quietly.

She sat up and turned on the light by the bed.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," he apologized. He plopped down on the bed and removed his shoes, only having just noticed that she transfigured the solo bed into a double. "You enlarged the bed."

"Out of necessity. There were no other beds in the house," she explained. She sat up and pulled the covers over her breasts, tucking them under her arms.

He continued to undress down to his shorts, then he pulled back the covers and turned to his side, away from her, and said, "Well, goodnight. I'll see you in the morning. I'll take you on a tour of the estate tomorrow, if you'd like."

She stared at his back, wanting to speak, having so many things twirling around her brain, but she held them all at bay. She stared for a long time at the smooth skin of his shoulder and back. He really was a physically beautiful man. She hadn't even thought of the possibility that she might have been paired with him when the tests for the Marriage Law were devised, but now that she had, she was pleased. She hadn't lied to him when she had told him that she loved him. Even though it was quick, she did. She loved him. She had, however, lied about a few other things, and she had to get those things off her chest.

She reached for his arm. She touched another small scar, one she didn't discover last night. She traced it back and forth lightly. He reached up with his free hand, grabbed her hand so quickly, her hand might have been a snitch during a Quidditch game, and suddenly he had her on her back and he loomed over her.

"What do you want, Hermione?" he asked, his mouth next to hers, the smell of his recently brushed teeth obvious. His nose touched her nose.

"Do you want to talk about your mother?" she asked, as a way to avoid telling him her confession.

He let go of her hand, but remained over her, his arms holding his body off hers just a bit, and he said, "Either we go to sleep, or make love again, but I'm not talking tonight. I'm all talked out."

"How romantic," she waned, with a small smile. "Seriously, I heard a small part of your admission, or whatever you want to call it, to your mother, and I know something is amiss here. Tiggy told me that you had to sell most of the things in the estate, even the house, to care for your mother, and that you had to quit playing professional sports because you were on the road too much, and you needed to take care of her. What's wrong with her? Is it Alzheimers? Dementia? A curse? What?"

He stared down at her with anger and hissed, "It doesn't appear we need to talk. You already know everything, don't you, of course, you've always been meddlesome, you've always been a know-it-all, and you can't leave anything alone, can you? Perhaps I want some secrets."

"We shouldn't have secrets from each other," she said softly, meaning every syllable and every word of that sentence, more than he could ever know.

His face softened and he sunk his head into the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's just, I'm so very tired, and forgive me, but I didn't want you to know about my mother, or our financial problems, because I didn't want you to pity me, or think that I couldn't support you as a wife."

"That thought never even occurred to me," she said seriously. She pushed his head away from her chest and forced him to look at her. They both moved to their sides to face the other. "I make good money, anyway, and you must make a fairly decent wage. That house you're restoring isn't cheap."

"No, it's not, but it is taking me years to do it," he complained. He sighed and turned to his back, covering his face with one arm. "My mother started to become unhinged, if you will, and began to break from reality, around the time Voldemort came back the second time. My father, though not heavy into the Death Eater thing like Malfoy's father, did support the Dark Lord, and gave plenty of money to the cause. He also lost plenty of money by gambling and other illegal deeds. He died a broken man, in more ways than one."

"My mother started to have these episodes – sometimes she would be fine, and remember everything, people, places, events, and other times she would forget who she was, where she was, where she lived, and become scared and even violent. She would go to Diagon Alley and forget why she was there. She would leave the house and not know how to get back. Soon, she became a recluse, and everything irritated her condition. The only things that made it better were having all her favourite things around her, or when I was home to help take care of her."

"I had to quit playing professional so I was closer to home, and I needed a steady job, so Adrian got me one at the Ministry, which isn't my life long dream or anything." He sighed and moved back to look at her, to his side. She hadn't moved since he had begun to talk.

"I began to sell things in the house, things mother wouldn't miss, to help pay for healers, treatments for her, as well as to pay back my father's debts, and fines leveled against the family during the war. I bought the old run down Victorian house in that Muggle Neighborhood on a whim. I felt guilty for buying something for myself, but I knew someday I would need something of my own, and I enjoy fixing it up, with my own two hands."

Hermione reached over and grabbed one of his hands. She brought it to her mouth and kissed it. "What's wrong with your mother?"

"Each healer has called it something different, but in essence, it's the Wizardry form of Alzheimer's disease. She's mostly bedridden now, and she doesn't have long to live."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. "That doesn't mean I pity you. It just means I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Thank you for being so truthful about everything to me, it means a lot to me," she replied.

He traced a long finger down her temple, to her jaw and repeated his rejoinder of, "I know."

"I want to be truthful to you, too," she said. "May I?"

It was late. He was tired. He didn't know how much more he could face. But he nodded just the same.

"You have to understand, the tests were mine. I knew them better than anyone, perhaps. I came up with them. I tested them long before Adrian had our staff test them. I'm an intelligent woman. If there were flaws in the tests, I knew about them."

He didn't know to what she was referring at first. She sat up in the bed and he was soon to follow. She seemed agitated, and soon she was off the bed and walking back and forth beside it. He pushed back the covers, and pulled his jeans back on his body, to sit down on top of the bed.

"Go on," he finally urged.

She turned, brought her hands up dramatically, and leveled, "Don't you see? I'm nobody's dummy! Like I said, if there were flaws in the tests, don't you think I would have known? Remember that day I was so nervous, knowing that Adrian was presenting the results to the Minister? I was so certain I was going to get fired that day, don't you recall?"

He could only nod. He didn't like how this conversation was starting.

"Imagine my shock and horror when Adrian told me that all the blind studies came back with positive results that the tests worked in everyway, that the Minister approved them and was going to present them to the Wizengamot! I was shocked! Then a week later, the council approved the tests and enacted the law! Next, Adrian said that Malfoy's company would be running all the results after everyone came in for their blood tests!"

She stopped pacing to stand at the end of the bed. She was twisting her hands together, nervously, as she continued her story. "I knew that once that happened, the tests would be found to be flawed, and I waited, and waited, after everyone was ordered to come in for the bloody, blood test, but Malfoy's company never said one thing about the tests not working! They acted as if they found everyone's perfect match! Results were found for everyone, choices made, the letters so carefully filled out, the envelopes so cautiously filled and guarded! The law was enacted. Everything was going along smoothly, except, I wondered why? How?"

"Yet you didn't say anything to anyone?" Marcus stood from the bed, suddenly realizing to what she was confessing.

She looked more distressed than ever and she threw her arms down and stomped her foot once and said, "NO! I didn't say a word, even though I knew my tests couldn't predict a perfect match! I knew there was sound magic in the tests! They could prove to be very useful for couples who wanted to screen for future illnesses or likelihood of a squib birth someday, but that was the extent of them!"

She pulled on his arm. "I tested them myself, Marcus! First, with my own blood and that of Ron's, and I found that he wasn't my match, but that hardly surprised me. I wasn't even that upset! I had been looking for a way to end it with him for a long time, and like some cowardly anti-Gryffindor, I let my bogus tests do the dirty work for me!"

"So you were going to break up with your fiancée, and not even care to whom you were paired? That doesn't sound like you!" He was confused by her statement. "Make me understand this, Hermione!"

She seemed more frantic, more distressed. She went to sit on a chair by the window. The grey moon cast a strange, eerie, almost otherworldly glow about her. Looking out into the darkness outside, instead of the darkness within the room, she muttered, "I didn't care who it picked for me, because I had already done the test on myself, as I mentioned, but I did it a second time, too. After all the blood samples came in, I took a good portion," she looked over at him, "ones from some people that I knew, some strangers," she looked back out the window, "and I ran the tests again. I have to admit, I received the same narrow field of results that Malfoy's lab did. I was presented with five names, five names exactly, of wizards who was my magical match. These wizards would be the most likely candidates for me to marry, if I wanted to have a high chance of not having a squib child, and if I wanted to have a long and happy marriage to someone with like philosophies and interests."

Marcus fell back on the bed, stunned. "Who were your five?"

"Oh, Marcus, it hardly matters, because I don't care! Come Monday, none of it will matter! And don't you see, magic aside, and stupid blood test aside, sometimes our hearts pick a perfect match for us, and I believe my heart picked you!"

"But I wasn't one of your five," he stated, already knowing the answer, because surely her results were the same as Malfoy's.

"No," she said sadly. She sat beside him, not touching, but close. "Draco Malfoy was one. Oddly enough, so was Adrian. A bloke by the name of Paul Oliver, whom I've never met, was on the list. Charlie Weasley was on my list, oddly enough, as was someone we went to school with, remember Andrew Goldstein?"

He sighed. Why was she telling him this? He didn't want to know any of this, yet suddenly, he found he was very curious about one thing. He stood, faced her, and looked down at her. "Hermione, you already said you didn't tell anyone that you knew the tests didn't work because you were looking for an easy out of your engagement, and although I find that a feeble answer, one if which I don't believe, I'll put it on the backburner for a moment."

"Why don't you believe it?" she asked, wanting to know, and not wanting it on the backburner.

"Because frankly, Granger, you're not a coward. If you had stopped loving Weasley, or had become compliant in your relationship, I think you would have found the balls, excuse the expression, to tell him. I think you, my dear, frankly didn't want anyone to know that your tests, your formula, didn't work! I think that your pride got in the way! You're always so damn conceited, and you have to be right about everything, and you would have been made to look foolish!"

She started to protest, but he wouldn't allow it. He continued, "Hell, even now, come Monday morning, no one really need to know that your tests were flawed! Malfoy and Adrian are probably going to blackmail the Minister into changing the law, and Blaise is going to get enough purebloods to cry foul, so your name need never get pulled through the mud!"

"That's not fair!" She stood beside him and poked him in the chest. The thing that hurt the most was that he was partially right, although a small part of her story was also right. She had wanted to break things off with Ron for a long time, and she hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings.

He motioned with his hands, washing away everything, and said, "I'm so damn tired. We'll talk about this more in the morning. I'm not even sure this is that big of a revelation to me. I'm sure Adrian and Malfoy probably already assumed that you knew your tests were flawed. I'm just a bit slower than them. In the long run, it doesn't matter, considering what I did with the results. You didn't have a choice anyway, did you? I picked myself for you, and you had no say in the matter. Can we go to bed now?" He sat back on the side of the bed and hung his head.

She moved closer, and started to speak, stumbled, reached out a hand to him, but pulled back. "That's not my whole confession."

He practically growled. "Couldn't you just give up your honesty and truthfulness resolve and keep the rest to yourself?" He lay back on the bed, crossed his legs at the ankles, and threw both arms over his head, hiding his face.

"Marcus, please, hear me out," she pleaded. She sat beside his hip on the narrow edge of the bed. "I would have thought you would have had more questions."

"My brain isn't as overactive as yours," he mumbled, his arms still over his head. "I don't have deep thoughts."

Hermione pulled one arm away from his face, and then the other. "I have to say all of this tonight. I have to."

"Go on," he finally granted, although he looked up at the dark ceiling and not at her.

"Well, as I said, I knew who my five matches should have been, and I also knew that Malfoy's lab would probably come up with the same five or six people, because I ran the tests several times. So imagine my surprise when your name was on my letter."

He sat up again, so quickly, that she almost fell off the bed. He went to grab her arm, retained it in his grip, and seethed, "And you know why that was! I already admitted my wrongdoing! Draco Malfoy came up with five or six people for you, picked you for himself, and I changed it! Your confession sounds a lot like my own! Why are we hashing this out at almost two in the morning? I just said it a moment ago, my duplicitous behavior made certain that you had no choice in the matter, Hermione!"

"Marcus, please," she urged. How could she make him understand what she was trying to admit? She reached for his fingers as they bit into the tender skin of her upper arm. She peeled them back slowly and held his hand in her lap, enveloping his large hand inside both of her own. "Why do you suppose I didn't say anything, even when I knew your name shouldn't have been there?"

A glimmer of hope filled his chest. He said, "Because you were pleased?" He wanted that to be her answer. He couldn't think of anything else. He didn't want to think of anything else, except, when her grip on his hands relaxed, and she dropped them and her face turned sad, he knew his answer was the wrong one.

"Marcus, I don't know how else to say this, or even if I should now. It doesn't matter in the long run, it has nothing to do with anything, or our situation at hand, and you're right, it's late. I'm sorry. I'm just being silly." She crawled right over his body, pulled back the covers, and climbed back into bed. She turned her back toward him and took a deep breath.

Now it was his turn to stare at her back. Her skin was ivory and free of blemishes. She had a few freckles on her shoulders and back. He wanted to trace them with his tongue, remember every single one of them. The back of her nightgown came down low enough that he could see a small grouping of freckles low on her spine. He reached down, cupping her waist with his hand, and rubbed that little grove of freckles with his thumb.

Then, a flash came to him, so swift, so sudden, that he knew what she was trying to tell him. "Hermione, would it have made any difference to you whose name was in your envelope? If someone else's name, besides mine, was in there, would you still have kept quiet about the fact that you knew your tests didn't work? Would you have still gone along with the Marriage Edict?"

She didn't respond. She didn't move. She didn't even breath.

He pulled her to her back, and loomed over her. Both her hands were clutched at her breasts, her eyes wide with fear, or understanding, or both. "Hermione? You weren't going to tell a soul about your tests being flawed, no matter whose name was in your envelope, were you? It didn't matter to you. You would have picked any one of those blokes, wouldn't you have? Did you want it to be Adrian? Or Draco? I just said that you didn't have a choice in the matter, because I changed the results, but perhaps that doesn't even matter. You didn't care to have a choice. You would have been happy with anyone!"

She started to shake her head, though she couldn't bring the words forth to deny it. He sat up quickly, she did the same. "You weren't happy to see my name. You were shocked, yes, because you knew my name shouldn't have been there, but still, you didn't want anyone to know your formula didn't work, and you wanted out of your relationship with Weasley as well as your professional reputation intact, so who gave a damn whose name was in the envelope! Hell, you could just as easily be in Malfoy's bed right now, right? You'd be just as happy or happier still!"

He jumped out of bed, walked around the room like a caged animal. "You said you loved me, but we've only been together for a week!"

"I do love you!" She got up on her knees in the bed. "I swear I do! You said you loved me, too, and it's only been a week for you as well!"

"But I've loved you for a long time! That's why I went to all the trouble of changing the names in the envelopes!" he bellowed. "When did you fall in love with me? Was it Tuesday or maybe this past Thursday? I know - it was last night, right? I've loved you for a long time, hence the reason for my deception and my devious act, Granger! At least I had a purpose to my end! You didn't care whose name you got! Anyone's name would have done the deed and served the purpose and gotten the job done! Truthfulness be damned, you're the biggest, fucking liar of us all!"

He pointed at her, and she recoiled, almost as if he had struck her, although she knew there was some truthfulness in his words, which hurt most of all. His final realization was the very confession she had admitted to her mother, and had wanted to admit to him, all day.

She climbed off the bed and jumped down beside him. "FINE! If my envelope had any other name, I still would have gone along with it, and never told a soul that I knew my tests didn't work! FINE! Part of it was because I was a coward, and part of it was because I no longer loved Ron and didn't want to hurt him by breaking it off with him! FINE! I lied, or withheld the truth from you, and could have done so forever, and you would never have been the wiser!"

Now he physically flinched. She reached for him, but he backed away. "But I did tell you, and the only reason I told you was because I DO LOVE YOU!"

"No, the only reason you told me is because you have a guilty conscience and because you suddenly pity me after seeing me with my mother!"

"That's not fair or accurate!" she argued. "I was going to tell you before that! I swear! I even mentioned it to my mother! I told her that I had lied to you, and she made a vague comment to you on the stairs regarding it last evening! She was talking about _my pride_ and _my lies_ getting in the way of our love, not yours!"

Marcus rubbed his face in frustration. He didn't want to argue any longer. He was ready for this chapter of his life to be ended. He didn't want to do anything. Suddenly, he went to the bedroom door and called out to the house elf, Tiggy.

"TIGGY!"

"Marcus?" Hermione asked from the room. He ignored her.

The little elf popped into the hallway. Marcus said, "We're leaving right now. I'll return tomorrow afternoon. I thought you should know."

Tiggy looked confused, glanced past Marcus into the room, saw Hermione standing behind him, but nodded his large head and said, "Yes, thank you, Master Marcus. I'll see you tomorrow."

Marcus slammed the bedroom door closed. He pulled on his clothing and closed his suitcase. Hermione remained standing where she was. He looked up at her and said, "Hurry up and dress so I can see you home."

"Why are we leaving?"

"Because this is over. I'm done. Monday morning I'm going to the Minister of Magic before Malfoy or Adrian can get there and I'm telling him what I did, and I'm going to blackmail the bastard myself and tell him to overturn the law. Don't worry; your name won't be soiled in the least."

"I don't care about that, and the law doesn't have to be overturned," she said softly.

"Don't worry," he repeated, ignoring her comment, "I'll make sure you come out smelling like flowers. No one will ever suspect your precious testing didn't work. Your reputation will not be impugned in the least; no one will ever suspect that you and I aren't each other's perfect matches. Everyone will merely think that the law is overturned."

With anger, she pulled her suitcase away from the wall, threw it on the bed, and grabbed some clothing. She started to dress, but when she grabbed a shoe from the top of the pile of clothing, she threw it at his back as he bent to pick up his own shoes. It hit him hard and he turned to face her.

"This solves nothing!" she shouted. "I didn't tell you the truth so that we wouldn't end up together, you idiot! I told you the truth because I assumed we were meant to be together, because of the way we feel for each other, and because of the past week, you stupid wanker! I didn't want lies between us! You were brave enough to admit the truth to me, and I wanted to return that bravery back to you! You're ruining everything! I'll beat you to the Minister's office on Monday, I'll admit everything first, and I'll get the law appealed, and I don't care about my reputation! Then, I'm going to prove to you that we ARE each other's perfect matches."

"Yeah, good luck with that," he rallied, picking up her shoe and tossing it back to her. They finished dressing in silence, packed up their belongings, and Disapparated to her building. He saw her safely to her doorstep, but then hurried away without a word.

She watched as he walked down the hallway, more determined than ever to prove to him that they were meant to be together, no matter what. And she still thought he was a stupid wanker.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the three day delay in updating. I have double pneumonia and have even been off work for a week. At least this is a very long chapter. Only two more to go. Thanks._


	21. Chapter 21

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 21 – To say This Story isn't Good Merely Because it isn't a Dramione is a bit Audacious**

Marcus woke up early that Monday morning, after having only slept a couple of hours. It was twenty-seven minutes after four in the morning when he woke up. He would shower and dress, and then he would Floo right to the Ministry. He wanted to be sure that he would be the first person to see the Minister that morning.

After he left Hermione's flat last night, he went straight to bed, but stayed awake until almost three, so in reality, he barely slept at all, not that it mattered. He didn't need a clear head this morning. What he needed a clear conscience.

When he did go to bed, he spent most of the time staring up at his ceiling, with his German shepherd, Fritz's, head on his chest. He couldn't get over how badly everything had turned out, and how it was his entire fault.

First, he had forced himself on Hermione, convinced that he was the right choice for her, which was egotistical and selfish, since he didn't consider her feelings on the matter. Then, he claimed, nay, promised her that he would protect her and watch out for her, even if he had to protect her 'from himself', yet in the end, he acted like a hurt child and in return, he hurt her, when she was only being truthful to him.

When he had time to consider things, he realized that her confession was not that bad. She merely said that she knew her tests had some flaws. So what if she wanted to protect her reputation? That wasn't a bad thing!

She also said that she no longer loved her fiancé, and she didn't want to hurt him by breaking things off with him, so she knew the marriage law would take care of that for her. Where was the harm in that?

Likewise, she said that she would have gone along with whoever's name was in her envelope – and seriously, would she have had a choice? It was a bloody law. She had to comply, whether it was Malfoy's name or Marcus' name. The mere fact that she admitted that she wouldn't have revealed that her tests were flawed no matter who's name was in the envelope really shouldn't have hurt him so much.

After all, she didn't love him before all of this, the way he loved her. She fell in love afterwards, didn't she? Or did she? Did she really fall in love only this week? Or had she only told him that because he told her that he loved her?

That was his biggest regret and crux of his anger. He felt remorse for the fact that his love for her wasn't enough of a reason to be selfish for putting his name in her envelope, yet he blamed her for not loving him enough _to want_ his name in the envelope!

Yes, it was a confusing thought, but it was the one that stuck to him like glue. He found it hard to forgive her for not wanting him and him alone. His pride was hurt. That's what it was. He wanted her to love him as much as he loved her, and when she said that she would have accepted any name in that envelope, his pride was hurt.

He was a fool. She called him a wanker. He was much more than that. He wasn't sure she could forgive him, or even if he wanted her to at this point. The only thing he wanted was to tell the Minister that he falsified the results in HIS individual envelope. He wouldn't implicate Adrian. He wouldn't tell the Minister that Malfoy's company played with the results. He wouldn't tell him anything regarding Hermione. He would take responsibility, take his blame, pay his penance, and be done with it all. Later, if the law was repelled and Hermione decided on her own that she loved him and that they might have a future, so be it.

* * *

Hermione walked into her flat last night, dazed and confused. She went to her bathroom, changed into her pajamas, put out new water and food for her cats, Salt and Pepper, and then she sat in a chair in the corner of her living room with a glass of red wine and she ruminated over all the events of the last week.

Marcus was so angry, but why? Why couldn't he see reason? Was her sin worse than his? No bloody way! She felt guilty now for some of the things she had said over the past week, things such as, _"Perfect match this_," and "_Perfect match that,"_ when she knew there were no such thing as a "PERFECT MATCH". And when she claimed that at least the Ministry decided to enact the law using her formula instead of making poor choices for everyone, when she knew that her formula wasn't perfect, was terribly wrong of her!

Though, there were moments when she dared hope that perhaps her potion had worked after all, because she felt such a true connection with Marcus.

Her black cat jumped into her lap as the white cat lay by her feet. She petted the one and rubbed the other with her foot, and then she cringed recalling that Marcus stated that he hated cats, and then he apologized for being honest about his 'cat hatred', and she said, _"I can't fault you for being honest. Honesty is something that I hold sacred. It's one of the most imperative ingredients to a relationship_." Just the thought of her hypocritical words made bile rise to her throat! She was such a fraud! Telling him how truthful she was, how important honesty was, when she had kept secrets from the beginning!

Secrets that if she had exposed long ago would have saved them all a lot of heartache and pain.

She pushed Pepper off her lap and reached over for the book of poetry by Browning, opening it back up to the one she read for him. She recalled how each line seemed to connect to their situation, regarding how things looked perfect in the beginning, but once you got past the 'exteriors' you could begin to see the imperfections, and how sometimes the _imperfections_ were better than the _perfections_!

STILL – she felt indignant! He had apparently loved her for a long time and he never told her! If he had, all of this would have been for naught, right? Wouldn't she have been brave enough, if he had confessed his love before the marriage law, to give him a chance, to break things with Ron, and to confess that the marriage tests didn't work?

At this point, she had no clue. Foresight and hindsight were two things that were hard to question.

Bottom line still - she did lie to him. When she was waiting for the healer to come to Malfoy Manor, she told him that she loved him. That part wasn't the lie. The lie was the sentence she said after that. She said '_we are each other's perfect matches. It's fate.'_ She was such a liar, because she knew that they weren't! He had every reason to hate her now.

She would make all of this right. She couldn't wait until morning. She had to get to the Minister before Adrian, Malfoy, or Marcus. First thing she did was dress. Then she picked up her mobile phone and called an old friend. It was close to four in the morning, so it rang several times before he answered.

Finally, a voice on the other end said, "Is something wrong, Hermione? Why are you calling so early?"

"Oh, Harry, I need your help."

* * *

Draco closed the door of Anna's bedroom and began to pace around her small living room, before he finally went into her kitchen to start a pot of coffee. They had spent the entire night talking! TALKING! On her BED, no less, and though they kissed a bit, and touched, and flirted, that was the extent of the physicality of the situation, yet Draco would describe last night as the most intimate night of his life.

Her dogs stood by the back door and stared at him as he drank his coffee. He rolled his eyes, but opened the door and let them out. Then he found himself pouring cat food into three cat bowls on the floor by the back door. He peeked outside, saw dog food on the back porch, so he fed the damn dogs, too. Might as well let Anna have a sleep in today.

Anna. Anna McAllister. Anna McAllister Malfoy. No, that didn't sound right to Draco. He liked Anna Malfoy better. He was a traditionalist. None of those women keeping their maiden name crap. He wondered what his parents would think if he brought all these animals to the Manor. He laughed aloud at that thought. His old man would have an apoplexy fit. He would love to see that, yes in deed!

Wait, was he seriously thinking of marrying a woman that he hadn't even slept with, hadn't even dated, and hadn't kissed more than a few times?

Yes. He was. He would. No matter what. That meant he had to get to the Ministry before anyone else and stop the Marriage Edict from being overturned. He would rather everyone think he was marrying her because of the law, not because of some silly sentiment such as LOVE. Ha. Love. Draco Malfoy was in love.

And look at the damn time! It was already almost five in the morning and he hadn't even showered yet! He opened the back door, shouted for the dogs to come back inside, ran down the hallway, opened the door to Anna's bedroom, saw that she was now wide eyed and sitting up in bed, and he shouted, "I love you. There. I said it. I've got to go home, shower and change and then get to the Ministry and stop Adrian and Marcus from stopping that damn law, because I'm going to marry you, Anna McAllister!"

Then he Disapparated away. Anna opened her mouth to say something…anything, shocked as she was, but he was long gone. She went to her fireplace, picked up some Floo powder, and Floo'd Theo Nott right away. Draco Malfoy was going crazy apparently, and she needed Theo's help.

* * *

Adrian placed his jacket over the back of his chair in his office and sighed. Blaise walked into the office right after him, blurry eyed, and said, "I don't think I've ever been here this early. There's barely another soul in the whole Ministry."

"I thought Malfoy would be here by now," Adrian assumed. "And I don't know where Marcus Flint is. He was supposed to be at his mum's, but the elf there said that Hermione and he didn't stay, so then I went around his flat, and he wasn't there."

"Perhaps he stayed with Granger," Blaise regarded, throwing his long, lean body into a chair across from Adrian's desk.

"I checked there, too. She's not home either, and it's only a quarter after six in the morning! Where would they be?" Adrian went to his door and shrugged, adding, "Never mind, let's get this over with. We'll go to the Minister by ourselves. I know he's already here, because I checked. Come along, Blaise."

"I'm at your beck and call," Blaise answered, closing his eyes and remaining in the chair. Adrian walked out of the door, noticed Blaise wasn't with him, and walked back into his office. He kicked the chair hard. "What?" Blaise asked, alarmed, waking.

"Come on," Adrian insisted.

"Oh yes, we have noble, righteous things to do this morning, almost forgot," Blaise remarked, leaving the chair regrettably, and following in Adrian's wake.

* * *

Marcus Flint ran up to the Minister of Magic's office, never once thinking the man would even be there yet, only hoping, so imagine his surprise when he found the door closed, but a sign out front that said, **_"Meeting in Progress"._** Marcus knocked on the door anyway. He was further shocked when none other than Harry Potter poked his head outside the door.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, obviously annoyed.

"I need to speak with the Minister," Marcus relayed.

"Do you have an appointment?" Harry asked smugly.

"What?" Marcus looked around. "It's six-fourteen in the morning! No one has an appointment this time of the morning! Are you his bloody social secretary now? If he's in, tell him that I need to see him! It's regarding the Marriage Edict."

"Well, he's busy right now, in regard to the Marriage Edict," Harry said, mocking Marcus with the last part of the sentence. "So have a seat and wait your turn."

Marcus frowned and tried to push on the door. "Do I hear Hermione's voice in there?"

Harry pulled out his wand. "Do I hear an Auror about to arrest you for interfering with Ministry business?"

Marcus threw up his hands and sat down on a bench to wait. He was worried. Why was Hermione in there? She had better not take the blame for any of this! Not when everything was HIS fault!

Suddenly, Draco Malfoy came rushing down the hallway. He noticed Marcus sitting on a bench and Harry Potter standing outside the Minister's door, twirling his wand as if he were in a bloody parade, or conducting an orchestra, or something.

Nodding once to Marcus, ignoring scarhead, he started in the door. Harry flicked his wand and Malfoy landed on his bum, on the floor, before him.

"What the bloody blue blazes, Pothead!" Draco stood up and dusted off his suit.

"You can't go in there, Malfoy. The Minister is in conference, can't you read?" Harry said, smiling.

"At," Draco looked at his watch, "six nineteen in the morning?"

"Actually, he's been in conference since about five-thirty," Harry said lazily. "Form a line behind Marcus Flint there."

Draco looked at Marcus and asked, "Who's in there?"

"I think its Hermione," Marcus said softly.

"NO!" Draco shouted as loudly as he could. "She'll ruin everything!" He stomped his foot and rushed for the door again, ignoring the measly vermin that stood next to it, (also known as Potter). As soon as he touched the handle of the door, he was sent sprawling to the floor again.

"That was uncalled for, Scarhead!" Draco shouted from the floor. Harry started to laugh. Draco looked over at Marcus, and said, "Do something. Defend your friend."

Marcus merely shrugged and joined Harry's laughter.

Draco dusted off again and sat down next to Marcus. "I have to see him before you do," he pleaded.

"No," Marcus answered. "I have to tell him what I did. Everything's my fault."

"Yes, yes, you're so noble you might was well be an effing Gryffindor whore," Draco smeared. "Listen, I'll pay you a thousand galleons if you let me see him next."

"NO!" Marcus said with anger.

"TWO THOUSAND!"

"Fuck you, Malfoy!" Marcus hissed back.

Draco grabbed Marcus' shoulders and said, "In the name of all that's evil and unholy, as one of your oldest friends, please, let me make this right! I need the redemption! I feel so unclean! It's my fault. Let me do penance! "

Marcus laughed again, as did Harry from his post at the door. Marcus snorted and said, "You went a bit overboard. If you had only offered me three thousand, I would have let you go first, but the whole, 'let me seek redemption' shite was a joke."

Draco sneered and said softly, "Marcus, come on, don't ruin this! I don't want the marriage law overturned now!"

"Hmm?" Marcus peered at Draco, interested. Even Harry looked over, a bit engrossed.

"I want to marry Anna McAllister now," Draco said, while looking at the floor.

"What?" Marcus was shocked.

Draco tried to speak softly, so Potter wouldn't hear, and said, "I want to marry her now. I don't want the law overturned. Do a fellow a favour, and don't ruin this. You get what you want, I get what I want, everyone's happy."

Harry snickered from the door. Draco gave him a rude hand gesture, which Harry ignored, and Harry said, "For Merlin's sakes, Malfoy, if you want to marry the woman, ask her. What, do you think she needs a law to say yes? Is that it? Or is it to save face? Oh yes, can't have people think that Malfoy would lower himself by marrying a halfblood without a law to back it up."

"Again, in case you weren't able to read my hand gesture from a moment ago, shove it, Potter," Draco spouted.

At that moment, Anna and Theo came running down the hallway. Theo looked around and said, "My goodness, there's a lot of people here for 6:30 in the morning, and look, here comes more." Adrian and Blaise started down the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked Anna as he stood. He looked back at the bench as Theo started to take his place and added, "No cutting in line, Nott. I'm after Flint."

He turned back to Anna. "Well? Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" she repeated to him.

He bit his lip and said, "You knew we were all planning to come to the Ministry early today, to blackmail, (he looked over his shoulder at Potter and rephrased,) I mean, talk to the Minister about the flaws in the Marriage Laws."

"Oh," she said softly. "But I thought you said, before you left my house, never mind, I must have misunderstood." She went over to the bench and sat next to Theo.

Draco kicked the wall and turned to face her just as Adrian and Blaise made their way to them. Adrian looked at his watch and said, "I guess I'm late. Who's in there with the Minister, Potter, as if I need to ask?"

Harry merely nodded his head, which earned a nod in return from Adrian. Without preamble or permission, Adrian walked past them all, past Harry, and into the office. Harry allowed it, and then walked in as well.

Draco looked over at Anna, who now sat between Blaise and Theo on a very crowded bench. He threw up his hands, sighed, and went over to her. Bowing on his knees, he took her hands into his, which drew every eye of every person from the bench to his face. He said, "Anna McAllister, will you do me the service of dating me, so we might see if we might want to, I mean, if there's not a law you don't have to, but perhaps we might suit, you know?"

"Oh my stars," Blaise mumbled, with a small laugh. "And he used to be the smooth talking one of the bunch, next to me."

"Let's give them some privacy," Theo said.

Marcus frowned and said, "No, I'm not leaving my place, besides, I think he needs to be honest with her. We all need to be honest with each other. Say what you mean, Malfoy. Tell her how you feel!"

Draco stood, threw up his hands, and shouted, "FINE!" He pulled on Anna's hands, forced her to stand, and said, "I like you, a lot. I think I'm falling in love with you. I swear I've never felt this way before. You're so different from all the other women I've been with, and that's a good thing, I assure you. I originally thought I needed to marry someone like Granger, so I put her name in my envelope, because I thought I was such a bad person, and only someone as good as her could give me the redemption that I sought."

"But I was wrong, not about me being a bad person, because I can admit it, I am, but I don't want to be any longer. I want to be better, and I think you can make me better, because you make me WANT to be better. I don't need to find redemption. I don't need a perfect match. I just need happiness, and love, and Anna, I know in my heart I'll find those things with you, even if you do come with a menagerie."

She smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. "We can give it a go," she finally said. He smiled so wide that he thought his face might crack. He pulled her into an embrace and finally, in his happiness, which was something quite foreign to Draco Malfoy, twirled her around and around. Then he pulled on her hand and said to his friends, "I'll leave you all to clean up this mess. Let me know how it ends, but, you know, give us a few...days." He looked over at her, kissed her cheek, and they were off.

"Love wins out in the end," Blaise said, closing his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. "How quaint."

Theo knocked his arm into Blaise's shoulder and asked, "What about you and the girl Weasley. If the law is overturned, do you think there'll be something there with her?"

The black man didn't open his eyes, but he answered, "No. I thought so at first, but no. I think I'll hold out for my own Anna, or Hermione," he opened one eye and looked over at Theo, "or my own Astoria." Then he smiled.

Theo smiled back. "I admitted everything to her last night, and we're still going to get married, no matter what," Theo revealed. Blaise smiled again at his friend. Theo's glance went from his left side, to his right, to look at Marcus.

Marcus gave him a small, rueful smile, and he said, "Congratulations. You're a lucky man, to have found true, honest, love and happiness in this craziness."

"You're lucky, too," Theo remarked. "You and Granger love each other, right? Everything will work out."

"Sure," Marcus commented. "We love each other." He looked over at the closed door and wondered if Theo was right. He stood to stretch his legs, and started over to the door, when a messenger came up to him with a long white envelope.

"Mr. Flint?" the man asked. Marcus turned to face the man, as did his friends on the bench. "You have an urgent message." Marcus took the envelope from the man's outstretched hand, opened it smoothly, and peered at the note within. He took a deep breath, stuck the note in his pocket, and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Theo called out.

Marcus didn't answer.

"What shall we tell Granger when she comes out? Where shall we tell her you went?" Blaise inquired, standing suddenly, no longer languid and tired.

Marcus turned around, walking backwards, and held up his hand and said, "Tell her I'm sorry I lied and that I hope she has a good life. Oh and goodbye."

He turned back around and left. Blaise looked at Theo and said, "What do you suppose was in that message?"

"No clue," Theo returned, "no effing clue."

* * *

_Only one more chapter. _


	22. Chapter 22

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Chapter 22 – Finally, The End of My Non Dramione Marriage ****Story**

**_Part I – The End – A Man and Woman Talking, but Who?_**

A man asked a woman to meet him in a Muggle park exactly one week after their meeting/confessional with the Minister of Magic. He waited patiently for her, knowing she wouldn't be late. She had never once been late in all the years he had known her. The fact was, she had never once disappointed him or let him down regarding anything. No, letting her down was his job. He heard footsteps approaching from the left. He knew it was she, so he didn't even glance toward her as he felt her body press against his on the bench.

They sat side-by-side on the bench in this Muggle park, huddled close together to ward off the cold January wind. Though the sun was shining, the wind was less kind, and it was blowing hard enough that the woman's hair kept blowing forward. The man finally looked over at her, reached up, and moved it aside, to tuck it behind her ear.

"Why did you do it?" he asked. "Why did you try to take all the blame?"

"It was my fault," she leveled.

He looked to the ground, clasping his hands between his legs as he did. Sighing audibly, he said, "I was going to take care of it all. You knew that. You should have let me."

She didn't have a response to that, so instead, she snaked her arm around his back and patted it through his coat. Leaning onto his shoulder, she placed her face against the soft, herringbone-wool, and closed her eyes to ward off tears that burned against her retinas. "Why? It wasn't your fault," she stated.

Sensing her tears were on the edge of escalating, he brought his arm around her body as well, pulled her to his chest, and said, "It's okay to cry." Therefore, she tucked her head against his body, and she did. He leveled, "And it's also okay to be in denial and to be self-righteous, since you're a boring, former, bloody Gryffindor, and to think that it wasn't my fault, when it was."

Through her tears, she laughed and countered, "I wish you hadn't come in and tried to rescue the situation. I wish Harry hadn't let you through the door, but he also felt that you were at fault, so he wanted you to take the fall with me. However, I had it well in hand." She cried for only a few more moments, then wiped her eyes and said, "Why do you suppose Marcus didn't wait out in the hallway for us? I really want to know what was in that note Blaise told us he received. I've been trying to get a hold of him all week and he's avoiding me." She sat upright and began to blot her eyes with the sleeve of her coat.

He handed her a tissue from his pocket and said, "He's always been like that. He's the most introverted of us all. He always wants to solve his own problems. He thinks he has to be the strong one, and to ask for help shows signs of weakness. Hell, why do you think I had to trick him into changing the names in the envelopes that day? I knew he would never ask for my help, so I had to help him along. In a way, we've always had our assigned roles in our little group, and his has always been the protector, but that leaves him unprotected."

"I know, I know," she agreed. "I've always felt protected by him. Do you think the note had to do with his mum?"

"Yes, and I think Blaise knew all along, though Theo hasn't been able to find out anything concrete yet, neither have I, of course, it's harder for me to find out things now, no longer working at the Ministry and all."

Hermione looked at Adrian and smiled as she pushed completely away from his chest. "You know, you didn't have to resign along with me. There was no need."

"Yes there was. I wasn't going to let you offer yourself up as some sacrificial lamb," he teased. "I can be noble, too." She chortled at that statement, so he pushed hard on her shoulder, causing her almost to fall off the bench, even as he defended, "I can, Hermione! Nobel and Adrian are almost synonyms. Besides, I was the Director of the department. I knew the results didn't work, and though I suspected that you probably knew they didn't work as well, I never discussed it with you. We were all in the wrong, you, the Minister and me. He won't take any blame though, of that I'm certain. The fact that we're ready to take it all will be of consolation to him."

"He did say that he would make sure the Wizengamot voted to overturn the law during its next session, but what if they don't?" she pondered.

"They will," he assured, and he was sure.

She let out a long breath, looked up at the crystal blue, winter sky, and asked, more to herself, "What am I to do now?"

"We can start our own company, as we had talked of doing before," Adrian suggested. He saw a look of incredibility on her face and interrupted with, "I don't think the publicity of this law being overturned will be as negative as you assume. Most will be happy that the law will be overturned, and after a few well-placed interviews from Blaise, Theo, and Malfoy, as well as from me, the people will go from hating us for causing the turmoil, to loving us for cleaning up the mess. I say, strike while the iron's hot. It's a perfect time for us to go out on our own. We'll have instant publicity."

"But to start our own lab, for the basis of screening people for magical matches, I mean, who would want to come to us, after our first tests didn't work?" she quizzed.

He laughed. "You'd be surprised, and we'll do more than that. Your test weren't being fully utilized. Many people will want to test for possible squib births, but also for other diseases, just as Muggles do. In addition, we can use our testing for infertility, like Muggle labs, and for so much more. We can do testing to help discover cures for illness, such as the one that Marcus' mother had."

"The reason we didn't quit a year ago when we wanted to do it then was because we didn't have the start up capital," Hermione reminded him. "I mean, I know you have money, but it's all tied up in your trust fund, which you can't touch yet, and unless you've suddenly robbed Gringotts, that hasn't changed, and I don't have that kind of money."

He shrugged and suggested, "We'll get Malfoy to give us the money." Again, she stared at him, wide eyed, and he laughed. "And did you notice how I said, 'give' and not 'borrowed'? Did you notice? That's his role in our group. He's our, what's the Muggle term, oh yes, our piggy-bank."

She laughed, too, and said, "I've noticed that. Okay, we'll get him to give us the money. He's so happy and besotted right now, he'd probably do anything." They sat in silence for a moment again, and then she broke it by saying, "Will Marcus ever forgive me? I'm not even certain what I did wrong?"

"I'm not certain either," he admitted. "And yes, he'll come around. His pride is bruised, but not beyond repair. He's hurt."

"Why?" she asked, that one word full of righteous indignation. "I did nothing wrong as far as the choice of who was in my envelope! He's the one that changed the names around! I had no choice but to comply with the letter of the law! I had to settle myself to whoever's name was within that damn envelope, doesn't he see that? That doesn't mean I didn't fall in love with him!"

She stood up and stared down at Adrian. He looked up at her with a small smile on his face. He grabbed one of her knitted-gloved hands and slipped it inside his leathered-gloved ones. He answered, "I know that, and you know that, but he's a bit one minded sometimes. As I said, it's his pride. I know it doesn't make sense to you, Hermione, but I think that when you admitted that it didn't _matter_ to you whose name was in the envelope, he was hurt. He's loved you for so long, and he wanted you to have loved him just as long.

"His brain may be able to eventually reason the folly of that, but his heart is ruling things at the moment. He wants to know that you loved him from the beginning as well, and that if someone else's name was in your envelope, that you would've been unhappy and miserable, because he would've been."

She sat back beside him, but kept her hand in his. Pouting, she said, "But isn't it good enough that even if I didn't love him at the start, that I loved him at the end?"

"Well said, Hermione Granger, remember that sentiment and when you see him, state it to him just like that, and yes, it should be good enough, and perhaps when he's had time to consider it, he'll know it's true." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it through the layer of wool, before dropping it. "And if he doesn't see it soon, I'll make him see it."

"You can't always fix everything, Adrian," Hermione said softly, sadly, almost despondently.

"Yes I can," he argued. "That's my role in our group. I fix everything."

She glanced over at him, under lowered lashes, unsure if he was joking or not, and said, "You're such a, a, I don't know how to say this, but…well…you think you know it all, don't you?" She leaned against the bench again and said, "You really think you know what's best for everyone, and that you can fix everything, and guide everything to go your way, and that you're smarter than everyone else."

He waited a matter of seconds and then joked, "Were you describing yourself or me?"

She hit his arm hard with her fist. He rubbed his arm and laughed hard. "You have to admit, it sounded like you were describing yourself there for a moment."

She stood, faced him, and joked, "Maybe you and I should have been paired up. We are rather alike. We would have been perfect matches, aye?"

He smiled and stood in front of her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, leaned over, kissed her forehead, and said, "We would have been too much alike, and would have killed each other in a matter of minutes. Perfect isn't all it's cracked up to be, Hermione. I think we should all strive for to be imperfect once in a while."

She agreed, nodded and said, "I thought the very same thing just this morning. Gee, we are alike. Scary." Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed him again, his cheek this time, and ran away, yelling over her shoulder, "Call me in a day or two, or if you hear from him!"

He lifted his hand to wave. After she was completely out of sight, he sat back on the bench and placed his hand on his cheek. It felt scorched from the imprint of her kiss. He said aloud, "We would have been a perfect match indeed. Nevertheless, my real role in the group is as I said earlier – I'm the noble one. Really, I'm nobler than anyone knows, because I let Marcus have her, instead of taking her for myself."

* * *

**_Part II – The End – Two Men Waiting Under A Tent During a Special Occasion_**

Two men sat next to each other on folding chairs on the left side of a makeshift pew under a large white tent in the middle of a wooded area of a rather large estate. One placed his foot upon the empty chair in front of him, to save it for his other friends. The other man threw his jacket across the chair next to that one to do the same, as the chair next to him was already occupied.

All the chairs were beginning to fill up quickly, and both men were rather surprised so many people were coming today, as their friend had told them that he had intended to keep this event small and low key. Likewise, it was planned rather in a hurry, with the notices going out only last night. Still, an event such as this usually did draw big crowds, especially when it regarded one of the oldest, pureblood families of their world.

One of their friends approached the two men and sat directly in front of them, removing the second man's jacket and throwing it back to him. He turned to face them and said, "I told you to save us a couple of seats in your aisle."

The man at the end said, "It was filling up too quickly. I placed my foot on the seat in front of me. It was the best I could do. Blaise did the same with his jacket. Why did we need to save so many seats? We know Anna and Draco won't need seats, since they'll be up front. Who are the other seats for?"

"Well, Granger for one," Adrian answered.

Blaise said, "I was rather hoping it was for someone else."

"Who?" Adrian asked.

"Nevermind," he answered flippantly. Adrian remained facing the other two and asked Theo, "Where's Astoria?"

"Sitting with her family. They wanted to show a united front. By the by, heard you broke it off with her older sister before the law was even overturned. Bad show, Adrian," Theo lectured.

"Mind your own, Theo," Adrian bit back.

"Gentlemen, please, this is not the time or place," Blaise commented. "This occasion hardly calls for fighting amongst friends."

Before the others could respond, Hermione ran down the long aisle, holding Harry Potter's hand. Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny were behind them. In fact, the entire Weasley family was walking down the aisle, filling seats here and there.

Hermione stopped by Adrian and said, "There doesn't seem to be enough seats for Harry, Ron, Ginny and I to sit with you all. We'll go sit somewhere else."

"Wait," Blaise said. He turned to the person next to him, reached in his pocket, pulled out some money and said, "This is yours if you go sit somewhere else."

The man and the woman with him left. He looked over at Ginny, hopefully, and said, "You and your brother can sit next to me." He said it rather optimistically. Theo smiled to himself.

"I'm going to go sit next to my fiancé," Ron said, pointing toward a woman a row over, "but go on, Gin." He pushed his sister toward Blaise, and then shook Blaise's hand. He gave Hermione a peck on the cheek, turned toward the row of seats on the other side of the tent, and sat next to a woman who had saved a seat for him.

"There's still not room for Harry and me," Hermione complained, looking at the lone seat next to Adrian.

"Are you kidding?" Theo said. "He's Harry 'Bloody' Potter, if someone won't move for him, I don't know what our world is coming to." Theo leaned forward, placed his hand on the shoulder of the person in the seat next to the empty seat in the aisle in front, and said, "Excuse me, kid, but you're accidentally in the assigned seat of the Saviour of our world. You should be ashamed. Move along, move along."

The younger man looked up, saw Harry, apologized profusely, and moved over two seats. Harry gave Theo a very dirty look even while Theo, Blaise and Adrian laughed, but he sat down, with Hermione sitting next to him, Adrian on the end.

Hermione leaned toward Adrian and said, "Be truthful to me, did you know about this last week when I saw you in the park?"

"I swear I didn't. I received the Owl about it last night, just as you did. I think the only ones who knew were Anna and Draco. They arranged everything very quickly."

She nodded slightly, but didn't respond.

Theo leaned forward toward the others and said, "Most of these people abandoned this family before, but now they come out for something like this. It doesn't make sense to me."

"Bunch of hypocrites, that's what they are," Harry retorted, agreeing with Theo's sentiment. "That's how it's always been in this world."

He turned around in his seat so the members of his party in both rows could hear and said in low tones, "By the way, there was a secret meeting of the Wizengamot this morning. The marriage law is officially overturned. The Owls will go out tomorrow, along with a press release. The wording is such that it won't even mention that there were flaws with the testing, because that would dirty all of them as well. The official reason is that they've decided that this law goes against the very thing that we fought a war to end… discrimination, intolerance, injustice, bigotry, and most of all, blood prejudice, in this case meaning reverse prejudice, not allowing purebloods to marry whomever they please."

He turned back around in his seat.

Hermione leaned her head on his shoulder.

Adrian turned around and looked at Blaise and Theo. They had different expressions on their faces. He was about to say something else to them, when he saw Marcus walking up the aisle. He turned back in his seat and pulled on Hermione's coat sleeve.

She turned slightly when he did. She looked up as Marcus walked past her, followed by Draco, then Anna and some woman she didn't know.

Then, all eyes were on the people up front.

Draco approached the front of the crowd first and said, "Thank you all for coming at such short notice. My best friend, Marcus, asked that I say a few words today, and I'm happy to do so."

"First, Mrs. Flint was one of the warmest women I've ever known. Of all of my friends' mothers and I know it's hard to believe, but most of my friends had mothers, (_people laughed)_ she was the best. She was from a long line of purebloods, but she was never haughty or arrogant. She would hug us, tell us stories, and show us affection at every turn. Imagine that - a bunch of evil little Slytherins, up to no good, flying too high in the back garden, or playing in the front parlor on a rainy Saturday, tossing century old vases as if they were Quaffles, and she would never yell at us. She would offer us biscuits and butterbeers, give us hugs, and sometimes even join us in our games. Can any of you imagine my mother doing that?"

Again, a few people laughed.

"The point is, she was a wonderful, warm woman, who doted on her only son, and we will all miss her very, very much."

He turned toward Marcus, shook his hand, and then went to stand next to Anna and the other woman.

Marcus stepped forward and said, "I only have one thing to say. I'd like to read a poem, actually. My mother loved poetry, and someone else I love has an affinity for it as well. Now, I don't know if they ever read the same poetry, or had a fondness for the same poet, yet I found this book in my mother's room, and while leafing through the pages I found this poem, and I wanted to read it for her and for the person that I love. It's by a Muggle poet named Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and it's called, 'That Day'."

Hermione sat upright and strained to listen, clutching tightly to Harry's hand.

Marcus read:

That Day

I stand by the river where both of us stood,

And there is but one shadow to darken the flood,

And the path leading to it, where both used to pass,

Has the step of but one to take dew from the grass –

One forlorn since that day.

The flowers of the margin are many to see;

None stoops at my bidding to pluck them for me.

The bird in the alder sings loudly and long;

My low sound of weeping disturbs not his song,

As thy vow did that day.

I stand by the river, I think of that vow;

Oh, calm as the place is, vow-breaker, be thou!

I leave the flower growing, the bird unreproved:

Would I trouble_ thee _rather than _them,_ my beloved –

And my lover that day?

Go, be sure of my love, by that treason forgiven;

Of my prayers, by the blessing they win thee from heaven;

Of my grief (guess the length of the sword by the sheath's)

By the silence of life, more pathetic than death's!

Go – be clear of that day!

When he was finished, he closed he book and stood with his eyes facing toward the earth, his chest heaving. Hermione was weeping softly. He explained, "I was told by someone special that poetry was subjective. It could mean whatever you wanted it to mean. It could mean different things to different people. I won't tell you what that poem means to me, because that's sacred, to be shared only by me and one other, but perhaps it meant something to my mother as well, and I find solace in that thought."

To Hermione, that poem was a testament of his constant love for her. It spoke directly to her. It said that he still loved her, he forgave her, but most of all, it meant that he forgave himself. It reminded her of the day in the enchanted woods at Malfoy Manor, when they stood by the stream, and she reached her arms around his neck, kissed him with care, without thought, with qualms, and told him freely that she loved him. _That day_. 'That Day' she _admitted_ that she loved him, although she had probably loved him long before 'That Day'.

He finally looked up and said, "Most of you know I'm a man of few words, but I wanted to share that poem and I wanted to thank you all for coming today." His eyes scanned the crowd and connected with Hermione's eyes. He gave her a sad smile and then he turned toward an ivory casket that was behind him. He placed a hand on the closed casket, said, "Goodbye, Mother. I love you. I hope you'll be happy now and forever. I hope I will be as well. I finally realize that we both deserve it." He took a long ivory rose from the bouquet spray of roses on the top and placed it inside his coat. He walked toward the side of the tent and soon disappeared in the woods.

Hermione and the rest stayed until the casket was lowered into the ground.

* * *

**_Part III- The End – A Man and a Woman and a House_**

Hermione walked into the old Victorian house that Marcus was renovating without invitation. She had knocked twice upon the door, but no one answered. She tried the latch, and the door opened, and she knew from Blaise that Marcus was supposed to be here, so she let her inside.

She hadn't seen him since his mother's funeral a week before, though they didn't talk once that day. Before that, she saw him the night everything went downhill, the night before they all went to confess their sins to the Ministry of Magic, two weeks ago.

Even if she hadn't resigned without notice that day, she wouldn't have seen him at work, because she found out that the day after she and Adrian resigned that Marcus had resigned as well. She didn't know the reason for it at the time…no one knew that his mother had passed away the morning they all waited to talk to the Minister, well, no one but Draco and later Blaise. She didn't know what his plans were. She didn't know where they stood. She DID know, however, that he still loved her, or he wouldn't have read that poem at his mother's funeral. She also knew that she still loved him, or she wouldn't have been brave enough to come here today.

In addition, he wouldn't have sent her a very special present last night if he didn't still love her, and she wouldn't have worn it for the very same reason. She looked down at her wrist. Usually she only wore a watch on her wrist, which she would move around and around, nervously, but today she wore her watch on her left wrist and the present he had sent her on her right. She had admired the bracelet in the Muggle department store the day they bought the present for her mother. It was made of solid silver and the bracelet looked like a vine, with small gardenias hanging from it. He identified the flowers for her that day because she couldn't tell what type they were, even though he claimed to be a man who didn't know one type of flower from another, and she claimed that gardenias were her favourites.

Now he had given it to her. She wore it proudly.

She walked from the foyer into the front parlor. That room was completely finished and she stood in awe for a moment, admiring the lovely room. She walked from that room to the next, which he claimed could be a second parlor, later calling them 'his and hers' parlors. It too was finished. The front room consisted of blues and browns, the second room was made up of greens and golds, but the colours and themes flowed together nicely. She walked through the small hallway into the next room; the one that he claimed could someday be her library.

She remembered suggesting red for this room to him that day. He laughed at her and said, "Really, red?" She told him red stimulated the brain and thinking. He joked that her brain didn't need stimulated.

However, the room was painted red, for the most part. The bottom parts of the walls were white wainscoting, the middle parts of the walls were wallpapered with a French toile de Jouy design and the top parts of the walls were red. The room had built in white bookshelves on two walls, and the insides of the bookshelves were painted red. There was a large window seat, with red and floral pillows. She fingered a fringe on one of the pillows and then sat down on the window seat and hugged the pillow to her chest.

He walked through the room, paintbrush in his hand, not noticing her. He started out the other door when she called his name. "Marcus?"

He turned to face her.

He looked surprised to see her.

"You went with the red in this room, I see," she said.

"It stimulates brainwaves, or something, or so I heard," he said with a lopsided grin. He moved the paintbrush awkwardly from one hand to the next, finally opting to place it on a small ladder in the hallway. He stepped back into the room and asked, "Have you been here long?"

"No, just got here. I love what you did with the front rooms. They look smashing."

"I'll need help picking out the furniture and wall decorations, though," he said with a grin. "I have to admit, Malfoy and Anna have been very helpful. I was going to paint this whole room a solid red, but was told to break it up with the toile."

"Ah…a woman's touch," Hermione said grinning, shaking her head.

"No…Anna didn't suggest it, Malfoy did," Marcus contradicted with a truthful grin. Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"Well, show me the rest of the place." She stood from the window seat and threw the pillow back down. He brushed his hands on his slacks, for no apparent reason, and held his hand out toward the door in which he had come from in the beginning. She knew he was merely showing her the way, but she acted as if she misunderstood and placed her hand in his. He looked surprised, but happily so, and he held her hand tightly as they crossed over to the large dining room. "I'm still painting in here, as you can see, so I've not really thought about it a lot."

"I love the gold and pumpkin colours though," Hermione said. "I really do. This way you can accent with the plum colour, like I suggested."

"Yes, but you thought sage green would be good in here, you said that one day," he reminded her. He dropped her hand, bent at the waist and picked up a drop cloth to fold it in two. She moved over to help him, her fingertips touching his. They stood and stared at each other for a long time, before they parted and folded the drop cloth together.

He took the cloth from her, threw it in the corner and said, "The kitchen." He held open the door and they stepped inside, moving through the doorway together, facing each other, slowly. It was sensual and meaningful and she was about to say something about it to him when she noticed the beauty of the room and gasped. "Oh, Marcus, it's beautiful. It's the best room yet."

"Thanks. I like the cherry cabinets. I made them myself, and I even cut the granite countertops myself." His hand went smoothly over the granite countertop, as did hers, and their fingers touched in the middle. They held hands again, naturally, as he finished, "I've been working in here the hardest, trying to get it done, because, well, you said that your family always considered the kitchen to be the heart of their home, and I knew that would be important to you."

She didn't look at him as he made this admission, though she wanted to ask him why it mattered what she had said, or what she thought. Was she to assume that they were still engaged? Were they? What did he think? Instead of asking, she dropped his hand to examine every nook and cranny of the large eat-in kitchen, and then stepped down to the breakfast nook below it, then down to the sunroom behind that, chatting all the way.

Gazing out into the garden she said, "Come spring, you'll need to do a lot of work out there. Good thing you know so much about plants and things, too."

He stood closely behind her. She pressed her nose against the glass of one of the many windows, and he placed his arms on each side of her body, so that he boxed her in. With a whisper in her ear he said, "I might need help out there. It looks like a big project, and I still have the upstairs to do yet."

"I'm pretty handy with gardening," she said softly. She knew he could conclude whatever he wanted to from that statement. She felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, and she looked down.

One of his hands came around to her waist. She placed one of her hands over his. He placed his mouth next to her ear and said, "Will you have time to help me, with starting your new business?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, turning in his arms. She gazed up at him and said, "Will you have time? Have you gotten a new job yet? Not that it matters to me, I mean, doing this is a full time job, I know, and it's not like we will need the money or anything, so I don't care." She didn't want him to think that she wouldn't marry him if he didn't have a job.

He placed his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He explained, "Blaise has decided to open a naturalist park on the Flint family land, with me as the head naturalist, and Malfoy has granted a very large endowment toward the park, and is even allowing some of their magical plants, animals and so forth, to be transplanted there, for the Wizarding public to enjoy."

Marcus smiled as Hermione smiled and he continued, "Malfoy's so damn in love, that I think he would agree to do anything anyone wanted him to do right now." Hermione laughed at that. "You and Adrian wanted start up money for a lab, boom, he gives you start up money. I wanted some of the one of a kind magical plants and animals from the Malfoy enchanted woods, boom, I have them. Anna wants to get married in a Muggle church, and continue to live in a Muggle neighbourhood, and boom, she's going to get her wish."

Hermione gasped, pushed Marcus away from her, and put her hands over her mouth in shock, before she yelled, "NO!" Marcus threw his head back and laughed. "I don't believe you!" she continued. "A church! Will a church remain standing if Lucius Malfoy enters it?" she asked seriously.

"Who says he'll enter?" Marcus commented. "All I know is that Anna wants to get married in the church where her parents married, and since they're no longer living, he says it's the least he can give her. She also wants to live in a Muggle neighbourhood, because she said she could never live at the Manor, so Draco just bought an old, run down house on this very street. It's ten times larger, of course, which they'll need because of all her animals, and they want me to help fix it up, with magic, of course, and in exchange, I get whatever I want for my naturalist preserve, and Blaise is letting the land for the reserve remain in my family's name."

She hugged him, and he kept her embrace, as she said, "Oh, that's so wonderful, Marcus." Falling back to the heels of her feet, she took one of his hands and was going to press a fleeting kiss to it, out of spontaneity, or love, whichever, but she noticed that it had paint all over it.

She pulled him back into the kitchen, to the sink, and turned on the warm water. Placing her hand under it at first, she splashed back and forth with her index finger, testing the temperature. When it was just right, she pulled his hand under and said, "Soap?"

He made a motion with his head. There was a pump dispenser with soap on the back of the sink. She pumped two globs of soap in her hand, and then lathered both of her hands together before she lathered them around his hands. She moved her fingers in and out of his smoothly, softly, between his large fingers, across his bony knuckles, around his flat nails, over the veins and muscles of the tops, and the somewhat callous and rough surfaces of his palms.

She loved his hands. She loved him. She rinsed them carefully, then picked up a kitchen towel and wrapped them both together, patting them dry. When she was finished, she kept them in her own and looked up into his brown eyes, which were boring holes into hers. "Marcus?"

"Hermione?"

"Are we going to live here when we marry?"

"Yes."

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Yes."

"I think we need to start on the upstairs master bedroom next, okay?"

"It's already started, my Hermione. It's already started." He placed his clean hands on her face, leaned down, and kissed her mouth gently, but surely. "Would you like to see?"

"I hope you didn't let Malfoy help you decorate it," she said, taking his hand to hold again. They walked hand-in-hand toward the doorway that would take them up the back staircase. "I love the French country design in the library, it has just the right amount of femininity to it, but I think the master bedroom should reflect both the masculine and the feminine, for both of us."

"Oh, well, someone else helped me," he said with a sly smile, while he led her up the back stairs.

"Who helped you?" she begged.

"You'll find out. As soon as you open the door, you'll see," he answered.

"Oh please, just tell me who it was. I feel as nervous as I did the day I wondered whose name was in my envelope after the Marriage Edict. Just tell me. It wasn't Blaise was it, because I don't want my bedroom to look like a brothel?"

They were crossing over the top step and starting down the hallway when he said, "Guess again."

"Please, not Theo. He would make it all white and sterile looking, and the only picture in the whole place would probably be one of him," she said. He pulled her down the hallway.

"Another guess."

"Adrian? Because frankly, Adrian and I have very similar taste. But still, I hardly think I want him to decorate my future bedroom," she said, adding, "And no offense, but if I left it to you to decorate all on your own, it would probably be a Quidditch theme, with little broom sticks hanging everywhere, and Quaffles and Snitches and the like on the walls."

He pulled her to stop right outside the closed bedroom door, with a false look of hurt on his face. "You liked the rest of the house, and I'll have you know, that I usually make very good choices, when left to my own devices, after all, I chose you, didn't I?"

She leaned into him, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his lips with a full kiss before saying, "That you did, sweetheart, and I couldn't have been happier with your choice then, so I'm sure I'll be happy with your choice now, if you did indeed decorate it. Let me see. Open the door."

He smiled, threw open the door, and as she stood there in shock he said, "Well, Blaise really is the one that decorated it, and I think it's perfect. It's your perfect master bedroom."

She looked inside and screamed, in true horror, at the black and pink velvet monstrosity that was supposed to be her master bedroom, and he laughed, but only for a moment, and then with a swish of his wand he changed it back to the tasteful way it was really supposed to look and said, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. This is how it's really supposed to look."

She hit his chest, hard, said, "I was afraid for a moment that you had lost your senses. Now my only question is if that bed is real in there or not?" She took his hand and led him inside, then closed the door.

_~The Real and Utter Perfect End~_


End file.
